James and Elana stood on the viewing deck, at the bow of the Thunderfist. Despite the fact it was the middle of summer, the weather was difficult. A brisk sea breeze buffeted the Thunderfist from the west, raising waves of up to two metres, and whistling low clouds past the steel steamship. Despite having been at sea for three weeks now, James stomach continued to react badly to life on the water. He would be glad to reach land, wherever that land might be. The elves of the Quendya seemed to be enjoying the conditions. With full sails deployed in a broad reach, they easily outpaced the Thunderfist and took the opportunity to literally sail rings around the dwarf battleship. Officially, it was called 'training' but James and the dwarfs understood it to be a demonstration of superior elvish seamanship.

  "How soon until we sight Islandia, Elana?" asked James.

  "Erik promised we would mark land today, and it could really be any time now. We probably would have caught a glimpse already, if it wasn't for this low cloud," answered Elana.

  James seemed to notice a brightening in the cloud bank ahead. Blue sky started poking through, in patches, and there was something else, an outline above the horizon.

  "Land ho!" shouted Thorgill, from high atop the main mast. "Islandia! Off the port bow!"

  There it was. The country of James's dreams. Islandia, or Iceland, as he knew it, had always occupied a legendary place in James's mind. A distant island, populated by Vikings, covered in glaciers and volcanoes just had to be a place to visit at sometime in his life. Now he was here, visiting in a different context than he ever would have thought possible, but there it was, emerging from behind the clouds. Every bit as magnificent as he had ever dreamed that it would be. Glaciers, overhanging a pleasant looking island village. Green sloped misty mountains. What a place!

  They were actually quite close and the Thunderfist was the first to pass through the gap in the black sand bar in front of the harbour of Hofn, their destination. With great skill. Captain Erik Blarneysson guided the dwarf steamship through the narrow entrance and into the lagoon which led to the anchorage. Two lighthouses marked the way and from both, flags and banners of Islandia waved to and fro, clearly being displayed to welcome the visitors. The Quendya followed at a safe distance, and the elves navigated the treacherous waters with ease, despite their only power source being the wind.

  Both ships arrived in the quaint harbour together and pulled up to the mostly unoccupied main dock. There were just two small wooden fishing ships tied up to the long pier. A large welcoming committee was clearly visible, deployed about half way between the two nearest tie up platforms.

  A small band struck up a patriotic tune as Erik applied power to the side thruster, cosying the Thunderfist into its docking position. Thorgill and Dalli wrestled with the tie ups and secured the heavy ropes to the metal cleats. Once secured, both dwarfs combined to deploy the gangplank and form the walkway onto the pier. First off was Bearclaw Irontooth, who was warmly greeted by another man, clearly also a practitioner of the lore of Animalia.

  "Lord Irontooth! Welcome to Islandia! We are honoured to have you on our fine island!" boomed the powerfully built mage, clad in earth toned robes decorated with yellow sapphires.

  "Lord Canis Wyrmrider! Your magnificent community is a welcome sight after such a journey as we have endured! Let me introduce you to my travelling companions: Lord Elana Madrona; Mage Saturin Waechter; Sister of Theodor, Celeste Dreamweaver; and Lord James Blair."

  "I am pleased to meet you all! We have a wonderful meal prepared, and we will all gather at the meeting hall as soon as you are able to join us," responded Lord Wyrmrider.

  "That is a prudent plan, as we have much to discuss with you. Menthrial Hesto's keen eyed scouts have reported the sightings of an Ice Dragon!" described Bearclaw Irontooth, as he gestured towards the elvish schooner. "My council and our prognosticators have seen the inevitability of a conflict with Petruchio Bones this summer, and we believe that he is right now nominating champions and raising the Ice dragons from their slumbers in Glacierland."

  "Then we will have to issue calls for the Champions of Islandia!" exclaimed Lord Wyrmrider. "And there are so many other preparations. A serious battle is likely. I hope that our Guardians will be up to the task! We will speak more of this at the Folkmoot."

  With that, the boat passengers and welcoming committee members worked together to get everyone, and their gear up the hill to the traditional meeting hall of the village of Hofn. The Elvish representatives were Menthrial Hesto, Lady Ellebreth and the elf hero responsible for casting the decisive javelin, Fausilear Wingheart. Erik Blarneysson represented the Dwarfs. James and his companions also entered the meeting hall and took their seats. A host of Islandic representatives sat at the head of the gigantic wooden table, and a significant number of townspeople sat around a dozen other tables. A stone hearth dominated the centre of the public hall, containing a pleasantly warm crackling fire, with a polished copper chimney directing smoke upwards through the ceiling. Carved wooden replicas of what James assumed were Islandian Gods decorated the walls. James was ushered into a seat close to the hearth, but was surprised to find himself seated in between two young residents of Hofn, both similar in age to himself. Looking around the hall, every visitor was similarly arranged so that an Islandia resident sat between each non resident. James wondered if perhaps this was a traditional arrangement for such gatherings?

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  "Welcome to Hofn, I am called Jorik," introduced the muscular young man on James's right. "What land are you from, Master James?"

  "I am a native of the islands you know as the Brodgars," replied James.

  "I have visited the Brodgars," replied Jorik. "They are fine islands. I am the grandson of our town's leader, Elder Bjornsson."

  Traditionally costumed attendants brought ample food and drinks for everyone from a substantial kitchen. Most of the dishes contained various types of seafood, but everything tasted good to James. Eating a fresh meal on solid ground next to a warm fire was all that he could wish for. Jorik helped explain the significance of each of the traditional components of the fine dinner, and James watched his actions carefully for clues of how to use the unfamiliar implements and how best to consume the unfamiliar foods. The lobster claws were particularly tricky to open, and especially tasty once James learned the trick of extraction.

  "I call this meeting to order!" shouted Canis Wyrmrider, quieting the din of the ongoing private conversations. "I have been informed by Lord Irontooth that we face an imminent danger from the north! Petruchio Bones is raising the Ice Dragons and our Guardians must be prepared to answer the call to defend Islandia. Every community must nominate a champion. Jakob Bjornsson, as the reigning elder of Hofn, can I count on you to name your champion within the next 24 hours?"

  A sturdy and strongly muscled man in his sixties, clad in ceremonial clothing made of wolf skins and whale hide, stood to attention at the meeting table. "Lord Wyrmrider! You can count on us! We will conduct a tournament on the morrow, and through competition, choose our champion to ride the Hofn Fire Dragon! My own grandson will surely be one of the participants in the tournament and Thor willing, he will be the one to ride the Dragon into battle against Bones!" Elder Bjornsson cast an approving glance towards the young man sitting next to James. "We will also dispatch messengers on longships to notify all the other communities of Islandia, that Dragonriders must be nominated. Each village will produce its own champion."

  "Thank you, Elder Bjornsson. At this time I would like to reveal a vital secret to the assembled Guardians of Hofn. Mage Irontooth believes that this development may have fundamentally influenced the timing of the imminent invasion of the Ice Dragons. Freyanir, mate of my steed, Frodoinn, has produced an egg."

  A reaction of amazement spread immediately throughout the council room, followed by cheers and applause.

  "This is the first known dragon egg, laid in this century, and is grounds for great optimism. Newborn dragons have traditionally been accompanied by fortuitous events in our history! I would suggest that our visitors acclimatise themselves to our community by attending the tournament tomorrow, and accompany myself the following day to the lava fields of the Flaming Plateau. We shall make the call to the Fire Dragons for assistance, to propose an Orrosta!" explained Canis Wyrmrider.

  Elder Bjornsson added, "That is great news indeed, Lord Wyrmrider. I fully agree with the idea of your proposal! Calling for an Orrosta seems warranted in my judgement. I do have a concern however. How many Fire Dragons can we count on to fight with us? So many have taken to sleeping in the past decades, and few have awoken. Sleeping giants will be of no use to us when the Ice Dragons arrive."

  "I share your concerns, Elder Bjornsson. Barely fifty Fire Dragons answered the call of my last census, which took place one year ago. Most were young dragons. The ancient warriors of our past slumber in the hearts of our volcanoes, waiting for some sign to rejoin the Guardians in defence of Islandia. I seek the answer as to what that sign is. My dream is to awaken the great Dragon Lords of Islandic history! Surely Nordric, Jormworm and Hellsgandr still live somewhere in the depths of our island?" speculated Canis Wyrmrider.

  "I agree with your proposals, Lord Wyrmrider, and I suggest that we adjourn this meeting. All of you," the elder leader said, while waving his arms outwards towards the assembled crowd. "All of you should make use of the rest of this evening to discuss and arrange the events of the next two days."

  "A fine plan of action, in my opinion," stated Jorik. "What do you think, James Blair?"

  As was often the case in this world, James was overcome with the dramatic nature of events. These people were clearly anticipating a serious conflict with what sounded like dangerous forces. Yet, as also seemed to happen when confronted with dangers that would have paralysed him with fear in his own world, there was another element to consider. The fact was, James had dreamed of seeing a dragon ever since he was a young boy. And the way these people talked, he just might be getting a chance to live out those dreams. "The plans seem fine to me, Jorik. The truth is, I have never seen a dragon, but I have always dreamed that I might. What are they like?"

  "Even for the Guardians of Islandia, dragon sightings are rare. I have never seen an Ice Dragon. Few, in this room, have. As for Fire Dragons, they live on Islandia but spend most of their time in the barren highlands, far from human populations. I accompanied my father and Lord Wyrmrider to the lava fields on one occasion and witnessed his calling of Frodoinn. Never have I been so amazed as when I saw the Wizard Lord tack up his saddle onto the beast, and soar up into the blue sky!" Jorik's eyes literally flared with energy and enthusiasm while he described the sight. "Ever since that day I resolved to become our village champion and claim my own seat on the back of a Fire Dragon! Tomorrow is my chance! Many men of this village have spent their entire lives waiting for an Orrosta to be called. Here I am, just come of age, and I have my opportunity. I don't intend to waste it! Will you come with me to the tournament tomorrow? I can introduce you to all of the young men of Hofn!"

  "I would be honoured to attend the tournament with you, Jorik. And I hope that it goes your way," answered James.

  The meeting broke up. James and his companions were taken to lodgings for the night. It felt so much better to be sleeping in a nice room in a warm and secure hostel for the night. There was a wool mattress, feather pillows and duvets, along with the fact that the ground was solid and non-moving. James slept soundly for the first time in three weeks.