FIC: Stavkirke (Nathan and Toki, G)
TO: threskiornis
FROM: Your Secret Valentine
Title: Stavkirke
Characters: Toki, Nathan. Friendship/platonic
Rating: G
Timeline: Unspecified
Authors Note: I just want to let you know that I lived in Norway for a few months and have actually been to the Borgund stave church and it was magnificent and I think it would be a right "fit" for Toki. I really hope you enjoy it!
1:15 in the afternoon just may be the most un-metal time of day there is. In the summer and spring the sun is high, the sky as blue as a robin’s egg and a gentle breeze tends to drift over the grass and under the tallest tree limbs. It’s a time of energy where man and plant alike stand tall towards the warmth. One hundred percent un-metal.
Even the imposing sight of a large stave church in a Norwegian fjord, tall and dark, amongst a small graveyard, was slightly less brutal in the pleasant sun.
“Borgund stavkirke i Lærdal.”
“Hmmp, uh, what?”
"Borgund stave church in Lærdal. This ams it.”
“Uh-huh.”
Two men sat alone on the front step of the church, sheltered by the mighty building that sat in the middle of a small, sparse graveyard. The one man, large and hulking sat to the left of the other man who was quite smaller, thinner and with light blue eyes. The two didn’t talk too much since they arrived about twenty minutes prior.
It was Nathan who insisted on being shown the old stave church while they were passing through the country. The others were back at the bus in Lærdal. Skwisgaar was too good for a Norwegian landmark, Murderface was hitting on any woman in the village he could find, and Pickles was sampling local alcoholic fares in the café. So Nathan and Toki were dropped off and left to take in the sight by themselves. They had about 45 minutes left before the bus would be back.
“This is nothing like the church my parents would sometimes go to,” Nathan said.
“Ja. Stave churches ams pretty metal.”
Nathan looked over to his bandmate. Toki sat, limply leaning slightly forward with his palms down on the dark wooden floor. If the breeze was right not only the ends of his hair would blow, but also the tips of his moustache.
“Your dad was a priest. You ever got to a church like this?”
Toki swallowed hard and rolled his head back slight. “N-nos. There ams not any churches close and Lillehammer ams too far to always gos to. Mostly we stayed around the home.”
“Must have been pretty brutal to grow up here. Cold, metal,” Nathan said, “Brutal.”
“Ja, it was pretty brutals. In the winters especially. When I wasn’t doing chores I woulds ski.”
“Skiing? Really?”
“Oh, ja!” Toki seemed to perk up a bit and a warm smile grew on his face. “I woulds run up into the mountain. There ams were some cabins up there and I would ski all day. Alls the kids do it.”
Nathan mumbled. Skiing in the mountains - that could be a good song. Maybe a song about a guy who gets caught in an avalanche and smashes into a cabin full of vacationing orphans.
After a few moments of silence Toki got up and walked towards some of the small graves. All old and most covered in some type of mold, the crosses made of iron and high stones stayed still even against the wind, rain and snow that visited for hundreds of years. Stepping lightly, Toki weaved throughout the stones and kept his eyes low to them. Some were so old and weather beaten that the inscriptions were illegible.
As much as he tried to ignore his bandmate, Nathan couldn’t help but be drawn to watching Toki as he wandered. There was something interesting about seeing Toki in his native land amongst native scenery. The area seemed to suit him. Something about the location just complimented him. It wasn’t romantic, maybe not even friendly. Things just seemed to fit.
In front of a particularly old gravestone Toki stopped. He looked down at it and said simply, “Takk for alt.”
“What?”
The younger man turned around to face Nathan. He smiled a bit, a smile that was both a little lopsided and a little bashful.
“Takk for alt. Thank yous for everything. It ams a common epitiffaf on graves.”
“Epitiffaf?”
“Ja! Yous know, the nice words on the graves.”
“Epitiffaf… oh! Epitaph.”
“That ams what I said, epitiffaf.”
The dark haired man inhaled deeply and took in the sights again. The land was so gentle, being nestled in a fjord. The green grass below and beautiful greenery of the trees up the mountains was a sight matched by little else. The land was fresh, quiet, and had a feeling of secureness, being so out of the way. The church was like a whisper in silence.
“So, I guess growing up in Norway was pretty cool?”
“Oh ja,” Toki said as he brought his hand to the back of his neck, “Skiing in the winter, berrys picking in the spring.”
“Huh. Sounds a lot nicer than fucking Florida,” Nathan replied with a slight growl and a roll of his eyes.
“What ams Florida like?” an eager Toki asked.
The hulking man grumbled, “Hot and humid as balls, old people everywhere. I did see a dog get eaten by an alligator once. That was pretty brutal.”
“Oh wowwee!”
Toki walked over to the church again and stepped up to its front door. He placed a hand on the aged wood and in the right light, his hair was the same shade of brown as the church.
Nathan glanced at Toki until the rhythm guitarist walked out of sight when he walked around towards the back of the church.
Nathan tried not to get sentimental or think too much about the other men in the band (since that’s pretty gay), but something about seeing Toki touch the stave church was pleasant to the eye. It was strange. Nathan knew Toki had a very rough childhood, but seeing him here and hearing him talk about some pleasant Norwegian customs was nice. The sereneness of the area was refreshing.
In the back of the church, Toki leaned on the outer rail to get a better look at the grounds behind the building. It was hilly, and he could see some goats jut behind a simple fence. A few small ones and some adults wandered around the area, making their goat sounds, completely unaware of the beauty of their territory.
Even amongst abuse, bitter cold and bitter feelings, Toki grew strong. The Lillehammer cold and chill from his parents surprisingly didn’t freeze him. No, instead they somehow managed to cradle a tiny warmth. Was the warmth perfect? No. Times of darkness and death sometimes cooled the warmth, but the gentle kindness and good nature was always there. No one would ever ask, but Toki never regretted leaving Norway, but occasionally he did miss it. He missed the friendliness of the people and missed speaking his native language. Wayne’s Coffee has a special place for him as well as the coast. Eating whale in Bergen or seeing polar bears in Svalbard. He had come a long way from being just a boy from Norway. Through time and talent he grew into a man from Norway.
“Toki! TOKI!”
The younger man whipped his head around. Nathan was yelling for him.
“Get over here! The bus is here!”
Taking his time and making sure his hand was moving along the outside of the church he walked again to the front. Nathan was already walking toward the giant bus that idled a few feet from the low stone wall that marked the cemetery. Taking in the sun Toki walked toward the bus that would take them to the village and then shuttle them off to a new, bigger location.
Stepping onto the bus, Toki caught one last glance of the old church, tall, beautiful and brown in the sun, but black in low light. It was magnificent.
Once Nathan and Toki were aboard the bus sped back from where it came, making the church farther and farther away and soon out of sight. While Nathan seemed to be unaffected by the time there, Toki felt a sense of calm, as if there was a sense of validation from being there and touching the stave building. That old pile of wood survived hundreds of years of weather, people and time and was one of the lucky few left. Surviving and standing strong. How Norwegian.
Reminder: If you're the creator of this submission, please don't reply to feedback (until the Big Reveal) unless you do so anonymously.
FROM: Your Secret Valentine
Title: Stavkirke
Characters: Toki, Nathan. Friendship/platonic
Rating: G
Timeline: Unspecified
Authors Note: I just want to let you know that I lived in Norway for a few months and have actually been to the Borgund stave church and it was magnificent and I think it would be a right "fit" for Toki. I really hope you enjoy it!
1:15 in the afternoon just may be the most un-metal time of day there is. In the summer and spring the sun is high, the sky as blue as a robin’s egg and a gentle breeze tends to drift over the grass and under the tallest tree limbs. It’s a time of energy where man and plant alike stand tall towards the warmth. One hundred percent un-metal.
Even the imposing sight of a large stave church in a Norwegian fjord, tall and dark, amongst a small graveyard, was slightly less brutal in the pleasant sun.
“Borgund stavkirke i Lærdal.”
“Hmmp, uh, what?”
"Borgund stave church in Lærdal. This ams it.”
“Uh-huh.”
Two men sat alone on the front step of the church, sheltered by the mighty building that sat in the middle of a small, sparse graveyard. The one man, large and hulking sat to the left of the other man who was quite smaller, thinner and with light blue eyes. The two didn’t talk too much since they arrived about twenty minutes prior.
It was Nathan who insisted on being shown the old stave church while they were passing through the country. The others were back at the bus in Lærdal. Skwisgaar was too good for a Norwegian landmark, Murderface was hitting on any woman in the village he could find, and Pickles was sampling local alcoholic fares in the café. So Nathan and Toki were dropped off and left to take in the sight by themselves. They had about 45 minutes left before the bus would be back.
“This is nothing like the church my parents would sometimes go to,” Nathan said.
“Ja. Stave churches ams pretty metal.”
Nathan looked over to his bandmate. Toki sat, limply leaning slightly forward with his palms down on the dark wooden floor. If the breeze was right not only the ends of his hair would blow, but also the tips of his moustache.
“Your dad was a priest. You ever got to a church like this?”
Toki swallowed hard and rolled his head back slight. “N-nos. There ams not any churches close and Lillehammer ams too far to always gos to. Mostly we stayed around the home.”
“Must have been pretty brutal to grow up here. Cold, metal,” Nathan said, “Brutal.”
“Ja, it was pretty brutals. In the winters especially. When I wasn’t doing chores I woulds ski.”
“Skiing? Really?”
“Oh, ja!” Toki seemed to perk up a bit and a warm smile grew on his face. “I woulds run up into the mountain. There ams were some cabins up there and I would ski all day. Alls the kids do it.”
Nathan mumbled. Skiing in the mountains - that could be a good song. Maybe a song about a guy who gets caught in an avalanche and smashes into a cabin full of vacationing orphans.
After a few moments of silence Toki got up and walked towards some of the small graves. All old and most covered in some type of mold, the crosses made of iron and high stones stayed still even against the wind, rain and snow that visited for hundreds of years. Stepping lightly, Toki weaved throughout the stones and kept his eyes low to them. Some were so old and weather beaten that the inscriptions were illegible.
As much as he tried to ignore his bandmate, Nathan couldn’t help but be drawn to watching Toki as he wandered. There was something interesting about seeing Toki in his native land amongst native scenery. The area seemed to suit him. Something about the location just complimented him. It wasn’t romantic, maybe not even friendly. Things just seemed to fit.
In front of a particularly old gravestone Toki stopped. He looked down at it and said simply, “Takk for alt.”
“What?”
The younger man turned around to face Nathan. He smiled a bit, a smile that was both a little lopsided and a little bashful.
“Takk for alt. Thank yous for everything. It ams a common epitiffaf on graves.”
“Epitiffaf?”
“Ja! Yous know, the nice words on the graves.”
“Epitiffaf… oh! Epitaph.”
“That ams what I said, epitiffaf.”
The dark haired man inhaled deeply and took in the sights again. The land was so gentle, being nestled in a fjord. The green grass below and beautiful greenery of the trees up the mountains was a sight matched by little else. The land was fresh, quiet, and had a feeling of secureness, being so out of the way. The church was like a whisper in silence.
“So, I guess growing up in Norway was pretty cool?”
“Oh ja,” Toki said as he brought his hand to the back of his neck, “Skiing in the winter, berrys picking in the spring.”
“Huh. Sounds a lot nicer than fucking Florida,” Nathan replied with a slight growl and a roll of his eyes.
“What ams Florida like?” an eager Toki asked.
The hulking man grumbled, “Hot and humid as balls, old people everywhere. I did see a dog get eaten by an alligator once. That was pretty brutal.”
“Oh wowwee!”
Toki walked over to the church again and stepped up to its front door. He placed a hand on the aged wood and in the right light, his hair was the same shade of brown as the church.
Nathan glanced at Toki until the rhythm guitarist walked out of sight when he walked around towards the back of the church.
Nathan tried not to get sentimental or think too much about the other men in the band (since that’s pretty gay), but something about seeing Toki touch the stave church was pleasant to the eye. It was strange. Nathan knew Toki had a very rough childhood, but seeing him here and hearing him talk about some pleasant Norwegian customs was nice. The sereneness of the area was refreshing.
In the back of the church, Toki leaned on the outer rail to get a better look at the grounds behind the building. It was hilly, and he could see some goats jut behind a simple fence. A few small ones and some adults wandered around the area, making their goat sounds, completely unaware of the beauty of their territory.
Even amongst abuse, bitter cold and bitter feelings, Toki grew strong. The Lillehammer cold and chill from his parents surprisingly didn’t freeze him. No, instead they somehow managed to cradle a tiny warmth. Was the warmth perfect? No. Times of darkness and death sometimes cooled the warmth, but the gentle kindness and good nature was always there. No one would ever ask, but Toki never regretted leaving Norway, but occasionally he did miss it. He missed the friendliness of the people and missed speaking his native language. Wayne’s Coffee has a special place for him as well as the coast. Eating whale in Bergen or seeing polar bears in Svalbard. He had come a long way from being just a boy from Norway. Through time and talent he grew into a man from Norway.
“Toki! TOKI!”
The younger man whipped his head around. Nathan was yelling for him.
“Get over here! The bus is here!”
Taking his time and making sure his hand was moving along the outside of the church he walked again to the front. Nathan was already walking toward the giant bus that idled a few feet from the low stone wall that marked the cemetery. Taking in the sun Toki walked toward the bus that would take them to the village and then shuttle them off to a new, bigger location.
Stepping onto the bus, Toki caught one last glance of the old church, tall, beautiful and brown in the sun, but black in low light. It was magnificent.
Once Nathan and Toki were aboard the bus sped back from where it came, making the church farther and farther away and soon out of sight. While Nathan seemed to be unaffected by the time there, Toki felt a sense of calm, as if there was a sense of validation from being there and touching the stave building. That old pile of wood survived hundreds of years of weather, people and time and was one of the lucky few left. Surviving and standing strong. How Norwegian.
Reminder: If you're the creator of this submission, please don't reply to feedback (until the Big Reveal) unless you do so anonymously.