Pieces & Memories

A Modern Story With An Ancient Soul

Yield is a modern Viking saga. Full stop.

Norse beliefs are critical to understanding the story’s main characters, specifically how they interpret and navigate the world around them.

Yet, the book is deliberately written in a way that helps non-Norse readers understand the nuances in a Hemingway “iceberg theory” writing style.

The Tragedy of Erik’s Saga

We don’t see dialogue that accepts the notion that everyone gets to go to Valhalla (or “Valhǫll” as the characters say). Instead, we see father and son discuss the Norse afterlife over an open fire in the wilderness with an intimate understanding of the halls and how only a select few warriors ever actually earn their way to Valhalla.

Others go to different halls depending on their personalities, values, how they lived up to those values or not throughout their lives—as well as the way they died. Moreover, we see the consistency—the cultural integrity—written in between the lines of what the characters do and do not say about how Valhǫll is male-oriented while a place like Folkvangr is female-oriented.

Erik’s son, Sigurt, is more likely to end up in Valhalla, despite the fact that he is not quite the warrior Erik is yet.

Meanwhile, Erik, despite being the more experienced and capable veteran warrior, is still more likely to end up chosen for Fólkvangr instead, or perhaps one of the lesser-known halls like Nóatún.

This is because Nóatún is the place for seafaring merchants; Erik is a Navy veteran and a relatively high-earning entrepreneur. A merchant was the ancient precursor to what has now evolved into modern entrepreneurship.

Meanwhile, Valhǫll is the place for elite men who battle for its own sake; Yield makes it very clear early on that Erik does not battle for its own sake—but for love.

This means that Erik’s values put him at a significantly higher likelihood of finding himself alongside Freya in the afterlife, and thus sworn to protect the daughters of Freya—instead of fighting alongside Odin at Ragnarok.

Another layer of authenticity to appreciate is how Erik is actually made fun of for this by his peers.

Different than the “woke” depictions of Norse life featuring women as “shieldmaidens” on TV, on which he would likely be hailed—more authentically, Erik is depicted as what is actually a cultural disappointment specifically for the fact that he has such elite potential as a warrior—he could qualify for Valhǫll if he wanted to.

Alas, his heart remains attached to what many people would call “the divine feminine” that he chooses to forgo Valhalla for—which, to the Norse, would be considered “odd” or “eccentric”.

In the eyes of a religion like Christianity, Erik would be highly respected as a man of God who honors his wife. Meanwhile, the mission with his company and his actions throughout his life would, essentially, accomplish what many Christians would view as “the lord’s work” while avoiding sin.

However, in the authentic Norse viewpoint that Yield depicts, Erik is not viewed as the ideal man—but as a tragic hero of wasted potential. How he views the realm of the feminine as something that inspires him to his best self is viewed not as a strength but as a weakness for, in Norse culture, the bonds forged between men in battle and long voyages are valued more highly in ways similar to Spartan culture: Women were viewed as necessary for the survival of the tribe, but not for passion.

For whatever reasons that shaped him growing up, Erik is simply too passionate about women to qualify for Valhalla—in particular, his wife.

As Norse culture is hyper-masculine in nature despite once being the most progressive of its time for women’s rights during the Iron Age, in the story, it is made clear that Erik is often criticized by his Nordic peers as being less masculine—not because he isn’t one of the most skillful and physically fittest warriors in the tribe, but because of the way he does not treat his wife as an object to be fought over—to be won or lost in dueling or “holmganga”—but as a person worthy of being fought for.

It is the fact that Erik is such a competent warrior, having qualified for the US Navy SEALs, is why he is tragic and attracts ridicule in the Norse worldview.

This creates a unique dichotomy in the various ways in which different audiences can view Erik’s character flaws as he interacts with his son throughout the story. For instance, one could ask the question why Erik chooses to be Norse if he would be considered an ideal Christian man in practice?

Thus, he is a tragic hero of sorts to the Christians as well, but for a different reason—a man forsaken for his pagan identity, unable to enter heaven despite being arguably more moral in day-to-day life than many Christians themselves.

Yield’s Appreciation For Modern Scientific Advancements

Depictions of “modern” Viking life are misleading in a way that makes the public think anyone who calls themselves Norse is a LARPer dressing up for Instagram.

Now, there’s nothing inherently wrong with someone wanting to build a picturesque life in the mountains or cutting their hair like an actor from a Viking-themed TV show—live and let live, as the old saying goes. But there’s a difference between aesthetic reenactment and functional inheritance.

The functional inheritance of the Norse worldview in a modern family is what Yield depicts.

In Yield, we don’t see cosplay swords; we see bolt-action rifles. We don’t see tunics and shields; we see tactical gear and bulletproof body armor.

Norse pagan romanticists on social media often revere the past in visual but impractical terms through beautiful reels and pictures but, in reality, they are not in alignment with what could actually defend the civilization from genuine threats.

Those pagans are rarely taken seriously by the rest of the world and are, instead, most often viewed as actors and people stuck in the world of make-believe.

In stark contrast, the characters in Yield carry the romantic soul of the past with them but into the modern day with practicality.

In Erik and Sigurt’s Norse worldview, yesterday’s bow and arrow is today’s high-powered, precision rifle.

Erik and Sigurt do not roleplay as ancient warriors; they are ancient warriors—merely evolved to fit the times.

Their bodies are young, and they live in the now—but their souls are old.

They navigate the modern world by an all but forgotten code.

There are psychographic segmentational differences among Norse adherents today: The more visible, media-friendly types romanticize the past with their social media accounts. Many of them have learned nothing of any dialect of ancient Norse, and get their knowledge of the gods from video-games.

In contrast, the characters’ dialogue flow in and out of limited Old Western Norse, specifically, their knowledge of the Aesir passed down through their lineage and tribal brethren.

Yield pays homage to the quiet, less famous, but very real and existing bloodlines of direct Viking descendants who still truly live in the old ways, preserved with great spiritual discipline—merely with a modern take on technology, warfare, and politics.

Originally written as a private family story, Yield was never intended for mass appeal.

That gives it a sacred quality. It was meant to be shared like the old stories once were: intimately and reverently over a fire—a form of generational wealth in and of itself, passed down through the ages.

Thus, if you are one of those Norse families, this book will feel like home.

If you are not, Yield is a window and privilege to gaze into at characters based on very real people living very real lives that you can connect to and live through—not a stage play.