The Valor of Cappen Varra
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Reviews for The Valor of Cappen Varra
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- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5During a voyage across rough, frigid seas, a scrawny minstrel named Cappen is ordered ashore to gather firewood on a nearby island. While there, he must outwit a troll in order to rescue a princess who happens to be the daughter of the ship's captain, King Svearek. An amusing and lighthearted fantasy.
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The Valor of Cappen Varra - Poul William Anderson
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Title: The Valor of Cappen Varra
Author: Poul William Anderson
Release Date: July 29, 2009 [EBook #29542]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VALOR OF CAPPEN VARRA ***
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We have said that there are many and strange shadows, memories surviving from dim pasts, in this FANTASTIC UNIVERSE of ours. Poul Anderson turns to a legend from the Northern countries, countries where even today the pagan past seems only like yesterday, and tells the story of Cappen Varra, who came to Norren a long, long time ago.
the
valor
of
cappen
varra
by ... POUL ANDERSON
Let little Cappen go,
they shouted. Maybe he can sing the trolls to sleep—
The wind came from the north with sleet on its back. Raw shuddering gusts whipped the sea till the ship lurched and men felt driven spindrift stinging their faces. Beyond the rail there was winter night, a moving blackness where the waves rushed and clamored; straining into the great dark, men sensed only the bitter salt of sea-scud, the nettle of sleet and the lash of wind.
Cappen lost his footing as the ship heaved beneath him, his hands were yanked from the icy rail and he went stumbling to the deck. The bilge water was new coldness on his drenched clothes. He struggled back to his feet, leaning on a rower's bench and wishing miserably that his quaking stomach had more to lose. But he had already chucked his share of stockfish and hardtack, to the laughter of Svearek's men, when the gale started.
Numb fingers groped anxiously for the harp on his back. It still seemed intact in its leather case. He didn't care about the sodden wadmal breeks and tunic that hung around his skin. The sooner they rotted off him, the better. The thought of the silks and linens of Croy was a sigh in him.
Why had he come to Norren?
A gigantic form, vague in the whistling dark, loomed beside him and gave him a steadying hand. He could barely hear the blond giant's bull tones: "Ha, easy there, lad.