It's the time where Iceland is occupied by Vikings, and among those Vikings are explorers.
One particular Viking, Leif Ericson, is one of those said explorers and he has a plan. Only a few years ago, in 986 CE, a Viking by the name of Bjarni Herjolfsson had reported seeing a land that was unfamiliar after he attempted to sail from Iceland to Greenland, but was blown off-course by a great storm.
Herjolfsson didn't stop at this new land, hence why Ericson is trying to find it once more.
Iceland glances sideways at the young Viking, pulling his coat around himself a little tighter so as to protect himself from the biting wind. He's a commonwealth nation as of now, so he's strong but could always be stronger. Finding more land and exploring the rather unknown world is the best way to do this, at least that's what he thinks.
His violet eyes ease away from Ericson as he gazes out at the icy churning sea before him. As far as he can tell, there's no land for miles. Maybe the scouts on the masts can see better than he can on the deck.
Not a moment too soon, there's a long proclamation of "LAND HO!" from above. Men from all over the ship scramble to the edges of the boards to peer out at the sea ahead of them, the cold wind nipping at their exposed faces as they squint with anticipation.
Iceland reacts differently. He turns and strides to the sails, gripping the ropes and pulling himself closer to the mast so he can get a better vantage point. Sure enough, the slight rise of green lands can be seen. His eyes widen as his mouth falls open. Herjolfsson was right; something that he finds simply astounding.
The ship sails towards the land until it comes to a halt, anchoring the boat in the waters. Iceland dashes to the boats heading for shore and climbs in, helping the other men row. He remains silent, thinking over the discovery of this new land. Who knows how big it is? Maybe it's an island. Maybe it's a whole new continent.
The few scouting ships breach on the shore and they clamber out, muttering amongst themselves. Iceland lets out a long breath, remaining alert for other people.
There's a few shouts of a foreign language from nearby that causes most of the seafarers to scramble for their weapons. A small group of dark-skinned men stand a few yards away from the new group, spears and other makeshift weapons clenched in their strong hands and their black hair tied back or loose. They give rather unfriendly glares to the newcomers.
Leif Ericson is the first to try and communicate, stepping forwards with his hands held up. "Hello, we mean you no harm."
The First Nations group glances between one another, unable to understand the Nordic language he's using to speak. They mutter to each other, their own dialect unknown to the Icelandic explorers. Iceland arches an eyebrow at the red-haired Viking, admiring his attempt to try and make peace with the obviously tentative natives. Neither group sets their weapons down, a few harsh words being shouted from the residing side.
"Peace, brothers. Let me try and handle this," a soft voice says from the back of the native group, also in a language unknown to the seamen.
A woman emerges, her face framed by dark hair and seeming to hold an aura of purity and kindness. Her dark set eyes wisp over the men, flickering between Leif and Iceland. She knows immediately that one of them is a country, and that is the man she would prefer to speak to.
"Who...is...the leader?" she attempts, hoping that perhaps they could understand her broken English. "We...make...peace."
"I talk...with you," Iceland offers, his English a little better than hers yet still rusty. He turns to Leif with a quick head nod. "Tell the men that these people will not hurt them."
The Viking explorer bobs his head once in response before turning and repeating the same words to his men. The woman, First Nation, moves forwards and holds her hand out to the young nation, a small smile on her face.
"I welcome...you," she speaks, still stumbling to pick the right words. "I...First Nation."
Iceland takes her hand and shakes with a firm yet strong grip. "Iceland."
They release their hands. First Nation gives him one more smile as she turns to her people and begins speaking to them once more in their native language. Iceland lets out a long breath as he looks around the lovely land that they came across.
Perhaps this will work out.
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