The Saga of Daniel Salomon

In the days of Christian IV, king over the northern lands, it is told that there was a man by the name of Daniel Salomon. Born in the land of the Ashkenaz, his path led him to dwell in the winding, cobbled streets of Copenhagen, where the smoke of hearth fires mingled with the spices of distant shores. He was a merchant, the son of a merchant, as his father was before him. Daniel’s heart was ever restless, yearning for far horizons, for he was of the Jewish people, who wander many lands, but call none home.

Black as the raven’s wing was his beard, and sharp as the northern wind were his eyes. His speech was soft, yet his will was iron, and for reasons known only to him and the Nornir, he cast his thoughts toward the far isle of Iceland, land of fire and ice, where none of his kin had ever walked.

In those days, the Jews were strangers in many lands, oft met with mistrust and ill omens. Yet Daniel was undeterred. He sought no land for king nor for conquest; his path was for trade, though risk ever follows such a course. The sea between was wide and wild, and the ways of men more perilous still, but Daniel readied his ship. Strong it was, built of oak, with a crew as stalwart as the hammer of Þór.

And thus, they set sail upon the whale-road, where the waves struck the ship like Jötunn’s fists, and the wind howled through the rigging. Yet Daniel stood firm upon the deck, his thoughts ever fixed on the distant land.

After many days and nights upon the whale-road, they beheld the jagged cliffs of Iceland, dark as night, rising from the cold waters. Steam rose from the earth, and green fields clung to the heights. They made landfall, and Daniel was the first to set foot upon the rocky shore, the first of his kind, it is said, to do so.

The folk of Iceland came down from their farms, men with hands hard from toil and eyes sharp from the ways of storm and stone. Strangers were rare in their land, and they looked upon Daniel with wary eyes.

Daniel stood before them, unshaken by their stares. The land beneath him trembled with the life of the earth, and the air was sharp with the scent of snow and the sea. He offered the Icelanders fine cloth, fine as a jarl’s raiment, and spices from the far corners of the world. In turn, they gave him dried fish and wool as thick as the snow of winter.

More than goods passed between them, for Daniel learned their sagas, told by the fire in turf houses that seemed to grow from the very earth. They spoke of elves, trolls, and hidden folk who walked unseen in the shadows. Though they watched Daniel with quiet eyes, uncertain of his strange ways, they came to know him as a man, though his tongue was foreign and his prayers unknown.

As the days of summer waned, and the winds of fall swept down from the mountains, Daniel made ready to depart. His ship was laden with the goods of Iceland, and his heart was full of the tales he had heard and the land he had walked. Before he left, he climbed a high cliff, where the sea roared below, and the wind tore at his cloak. There, he stood, gazing out over the vast ocean, and he felt the weight of his journey upon him.

He was the first of his kin to set foot upon this land, and though he would return to the harbors of Copenhagen, the memory of Iceland would cling to him like salt upon his skin.

Daniel Salomon returned to his home, and in the long winters, when the fire burned low, he told his children of the land of fire and ice. He spoke of the green lights that danced in the sky, of the black cliffs rising from the sea, and of the people who lived beneath volcanoes and beside spirits and giants. And though many years would pass before another of his people set foot in Iceland, the tale of Daniel Salomon was told in the long nights of winter, and his name was not forgotten.