I've noticed in the comments that some people say Bjorn "the Bold" is a bad title. I'll share someone else's perspective here, and keep in mind this is just one of many titles he will earn over time.
Thanks to Chezebrelephaffe01 for the thoughtful comment.
Chezebrelephaffe01 · "it's not, it's actually quite appropriate given his age and lack of experience. Also having a name or title given will allow his fame to increase form an earlier age. So it may not be as good as the one he'll get later but it's not bad for a 12yo that, as far as most are aware, hasn't been properly blooded yet."
Kattegat, 793 AD
The longship rested on the other rocky shore of Kattegat. Its hull was dark with tar, and morning mist drifted across the water. Waves rolled against the stones in a steady rhythm while gulls called overhead. The cold wind made Bjorn pull his wool cloak closer. The air carried the scent of salt water and the cedar wood of the ship, mixed with the smell of iron from the metal fastenings.
Floki knelt beside the ship, running his weathered hands along the oak planks. Each board was held in place with iron rivets. He traced the central beam that ran along the bottom, then looked up at the carved dragon head at the front. His connection to the vessel was obvious.
Bjorn stood watching with his hands moving over the wood as he examined their work. He could picture how the water would flow past the bottom, how the boards would need to hold against the sea's pressure, and how the mast would catch the wind.
He tested a rope that supported the mast, thinking about how all the pieces worked together. He and Floki had spent countless nights building this ship. Bjorn had asked many questions during construction - about the depth of the central beam, the angle of the mast - using his knowledge to guide the design while making his suggestions sound like simple curiosity.
"She feels alive, Bjorn," Floki said, his voice shaking with excitement. "Can you feel it? Look at this craftsmanship. She's strong, and she'll cut right through those waves out there."
Bjorn spoke quietly, running his hand along the wood. "Pretty ships don't mean much if they sink, Floki. But this one's built right. The boards are tight, mast has good support. She'll handle the wind properly."
Bjorn stepped back and looked at all the ropes supporting the mast. Each one was pulled tight. He had suggested the exact angle for the mast to Floki, presenting it as just an idea, and Floki had trusted him enough to build it that way. Now Bjorn tested one of the support ropes, checking its tension with smooth, knowing movements.
"You understand her too, don't you?" Floki asked, tilting his head with a grin. "You can feel how ready she is. She means something to you, just like she does to me."
"Every sound she makes tells me she's solid," Bjorn said softly, looking toward the open water. "She's ready, Floki. Definitely ready."
A loud laugh interrupted them. Ragnar Lothbrok approached with his leather boots crunching on the pebbles. Rollo walked beside him, his shoulders were tense as he squinted against the wind - or perhaps studying Bjorn and Floki with their ship. The mood shifted with their arrival. You could feel Ragnar's natural authority and sense the unspoken thoughts on everyone's minds.
"Still working on your boat, nephew?" Rollo said, crossing his arms. "Planning to sing it a lullaby before it gets wet?"
Ragnar approached, his eyes serious as he looked toward the sea. Bjorn turned, unbothered by his uncle's comment. Floki looked a bit nervous and placed his hand back on the ship's hull.
Ragnar said clearly. "Will she sail? Or is she going to sink and take our plans down with her?"
Bjorn met Ragnar's gaze directly. "She'll sail. The hull won't leak, the balance is good, and the sail will catch the wind properly. The real test is putting her in the water, and she's ready for that."
Floki whispered, barely audible, "She's our creation, we built her from dreams and hard work."
Bjorn nodded, pride in his eyes. "And from careful planning"
"Big words," Rollo said dismissively. "We'll see if your planning means anything when the waves start—"
"I helped design her foundation," Bjorn cut in with his expression focused. "I worked out how she should be shaped. And you can judge our work when she's moving through the water." His jaw tightened, annoyed that someone from a thousand years ago, especially Rollo, dared to question his craftsmanship.
Ragnar placed a firm hand on Rollo's shoulder. "That's enough talk. Let's get her launched."
The waiting men moved forward together, straining as they pushed the heavy longship over greased logs. The bottom scraped loudly against the stones until the front finally touched the cold fjord water. The ship slid smoothly into the water.
Suddenly, Floki looked worried, his earlier confidence wavering. "What if she's too heavy?" he said, wringing his tar-stained hands. "What if the water pulls her under?"
Rollo looked somewhat satisfied at Floki's fear. "Better be ready to swim then. We don't want to drown because of mistakes in the boy's planning."
Bjorn's voice was clear and calm in the tension. "She's fine, Floki. Trust how we built her. Trust our work. Now, let's get the sail up."
Floki hesitated, looking from Bjorn's calm face to the ship, then his usual energy returned. The boy's confidence reassured him. "You promised she'd move fast," he muttered, already scrambling to help raise the heavy wool sail up the mast.
"Now!" Ragnar shouted, growing impatient. "Before the tide changes!"
With everyone pulling together on the rope, the sail - dyed a deep red - opened with a sharp snap, catching the full wind. The longship paused for a moment, then moved forward with power. It didn't just drift - it surged ahead, cutting through the dark water and sending white spray along its sides.
Ragnar, gripping the steering oar, let out a huge shout of joy, his fists clenched, his face bright with excitement. "She moves beautifully! This is a real warrior's ship!"
Floki, laughing with delight, nearly slipped down the mast and almost fell into the water collecting at the bottom of the boat. "We built something incredible, Bjorn! Look at her go!"
Bjorn finally laughed himself - a genuine, happy sound mixed with an expert's satisfaction. His practical mind was already noting the details: The sail is holding the wind perfectly. The bottom is keeping her steady with very little sideways drift. Speed is building nicely. She handles exactly as planned.
"I told you she'd be fine," he said confidently over the sound of wind and water, a satisfied smile on his face.
"She moves cleanly," Rollo admitted, his jaw set but unable to deny what he was seeing. "Faster than any ship we've had before. Whether it's luck or skill, it's impressive work."
"Even the gods must approve of her!" Floki called out breathlessly, throwing his arms wide with joy. "Nothing could sink this ship!"
"Now it's up to you, Ragnar Lothbrok," Floki said, clapping his shoulder with fierce loyalty.
Bjorn leaned into the spray, letting the cold salt water hit his face. He looked west, toward England, toward whatever lay ahead. Part of his mind noted: Haraldson's men are probably watching us right now.
The fjord water reflected the morning light as the longship moved swiftly forward. It was the result of Floki's traditional craftsmanship, Viking determination, and Bjorn's advanced knowledge - ready to turn the whole upside down.