Prolog . . .
1063 AD.
They were only half-a-day out of Vinland when the storm struck. Massive waves and winds buffeted and tossed the sturdy but open Viking vessel. Then came the rain. Loftur and Helga did what they could to protect their sick daughter from the elements and prayed mightily to Odin to save her, but it was not to be.
Gudrun, who had brightened their hearth for 11 years, died during the night.Unable to bear the thought of burying their loved one at sea, the heartbroken parents waited until later the next day when they found a small, approachable island, with a short gravel beach on which to land the ship. Loftur dug a simple grave as the other men gathered and planted rocks around it in the traditional ship-like shape. Helga lovingly wrapped her daughter's cold body in a soft cloak and fastened it with one of a pair of prized brooches from her own dress -- a final bond of love. Then she held the bundle tightly in a last embrace, and Loftur lowered it into the grave. Inside the grave were placed the prized game board and all of little Gudrun's processions that could be spared -- it was the best they could do. Sobbing, Helga was helped into the ship as Loftur and the other men shoved the vessel back into the open sea. Oarsmen strained and the wind caught the sail. Helga and Loftur, looking back, bid a last farewell, and soon the little island disappeared into the gray distance and into the ocean of time . . .
1000 years later -- 1996 AD. Nova Scotia's southern coast.
You slide your kayak up on the island's rocky beach. "Looks like a good place to stop for lunch," you decide as you look things over. The island, a short distance away from the mainland, is only one of the many, many small Islands dotting the coast. After securing your craft, you haul your pack up to the overlook above the beach. It is a very, very pretty little Island, peaceful, and covered with grass and wild flowers. At the top you stop. Surprised. "What's this?" A strange, almost boat-shaped grouping of rocks is on the overlook. "For a campfire maybe -- a pretty large one?," you muse, although you can see no recent charcoal. "Hmm?" You turn to look out to sea and the sunlight glints off something in the grass. "Litter! Probably an aluminum can from a careless camper -- a shame to spoil such a pretty place," you fume as you investigate.
But it is not aluminum at all.
Digging a little, you soon hold what appears to be a silver ornament, a kind of brooch perhaps.
"Treasure!"
Dreams of avarice race through your mind as you turn the brooch over and over in your hands. Excitedly you begin an earnest exploration of the rest of the little island but find nothing else of interest. Soon the sun starts to sink in the sky and your 'stop for lunch' becomes a 'stop for the night'. "Time to set-up camp," you realize. You slip the brooch into your pack, and ponder the ocean as you eat your supper. Later, dead tired, you fall off to sleep while promising yourself that "Tomorrow I may have to do some digging . . ."
Suddenly you are awake! Someone is weeping!
Fear grips you. You gingerly crawl out of your sleeping bag and tent only to be confronted by an apparition, a pale translucent figure of a young girl, weeping in the fiercely lit boat shaped rock 'circle'. Aghast, you try to stifle your panic and watch carefully, making yourself as 'small' as possible. But after a while of watching, she seems harmless -- certainly in great distress.
Carefully you approach. "Ahem . . . Uh . . . Can I help?," you ask. "Why are you crying? Is there something I can do?" you continue.
The girl looks up, tears in her ghostly eyes. "My mother's brooch -- it's gone!", she cries. "Can you help me find it?" she implores. You gulp, realizing that you have been a thief, and that greed has led you to hurt another. "Yes . . . Yes, I . . . I have it. I'm very, very sorry I took it", you apologize. "I had no idea it was owned by anyone. I will return it of course," you promise, "But will you tell me who you are and why you are here?" "Sit then", says the girl, "and we will play a game -- The Fox Game -- its been so long since I had anyone to play it with me. I will tell you many things while we play." You sit beside the 'boat' and the girl brings out a beautiful playing board. "Here, let me show you how to play.", she says, " But you do promise to return the brooch? "Yes, of course", you confirm as you begin to listen to her tales and learn her game
Epilog . . .
It's morning -- a bright and beautiful dawn. The water shimmers in the early morning sun. You crawl out of your bag and stretch. Suddenly you remember -- "Last night! The girl, the grave!" You look over to see the same, now quite ordinary looking, ring of rocks -- "nothing has changed."
You check your pack. "Yes, the brooch is still there!" "Was it a dream?" For a terrible instant you consider leaving the island with the treasure . . . "Surely the brooch is worth thousands . . . it may be enchanted, but I could sell it. . .," but reason, and honor, return in a moment.
"No," you shake your head, "the brooch is Gudrun's, not mine; a mother's gift of love; a symbol of love untarnished by time or distance . . ." Approaching what you now realize is a grave, you carefully work your shovel under a few inches of the sod, loosen this top layer from the underlying soil, and lay it aside. A large patch of bare soil marks your task. Carefully you begin digging. An hour of careful work later, and 2 feet down, you find the bundle of bones. Reverently you lay the brooch on top of them and begin to carefully fill in the hole. Finally, you lay the covering sod back over the grave site. It looks almost undisturbed. You break camp, load everything into the kayak, and the set about gathering some flowers.
Standing over the grave, sadness and compassion fill you. "Gudrun . . . I . . . I am glad to have met you," you say out loud, "and I am grateful for the game and stories . . . You have been lonely here, but you are no longer lost or unmourned. I will remember and will come back when I can." With that you place the flowers on the grave, stride to your kayak, and push out into the sea.