1
Stories / Re: Ukko’s Saga
« on: September 20, 2025, 03:07:43 AM »
Swidden month was cold, but prosperous. A wild boar stumbled into the pit trap closest to Ukko’s settlement; his mouth watered as he hung its meat out to dry. While the leather tanned, he went northwest to check a pit trap he’d dug just inside of Seal-Tribe territory, and was rewarded by the sight of a big bull elk. Its carcass yielded almost four hundred cuts of meat—with the first set out for the spirits, of course.
A second elk stumbled into a pit trap an hour north of his settlement. After tanning the fur and hanging out the meat to dry, Ukko found himself wondering whether he should consult the spirits. They had blessed him so far with bounty, and he wanted to make certain he was behaving properly towards them.
Late in Swidden month, he approached the anthill at the northwestern corner of his settlement, and in the dark carved a few shards off a silver bracelet into the nest. With his heart in his throat he waited for the spirit to approach.
Ukko was sleepy, having spent a long day finishing the tanning process, but he found himself wide awake under the dim moonlight as a pale figure faced him. He seemed to be all silver himself, with his grey beard and hat and his lichen overcoat. Ukko scarcely dared to breathe—until the old man smiled.
In a voice like a warm wind in the branches, he murmured, “Set your traps and wield your weapons, for there is an elk in the north-west for you.”
Another elk! Ukko couldn’t help but remember the early days of his independence, scrounging for whatever little food he could fish or snare, nearly freezing and starving. An elk had been his salvation then, and it seemed that even now the spirits intended for him to remain well-fed and warm.
As Ukko bowed his head in gratitude, he resolved to make some sort of shrine to whatever spirit governed the elk, thanking them for their favor.
*
Summer! This year the snow melted quickly, and the world once again began to bloom in a thousand shades of green. It was a relief to take off the heavy burden of skis and bear fur coat and cloak.
With no major building projects at the settlement and a fresh crop of turnips planted, the first weeks of summer were spent tanning the hides and smoking the meat of several more elk caught in his pit traps. There had indeed been one in the north-west, at the very edge of his settlement: another yearling bull. Ukko laid the first cut of meat out gently for the spirits, this time in the middle of a small nest of elk antlers he had fashioned into a shrine of sorts.
He also recalled well what he had learned the previous year from the fisherman who had taught him how to see the Old Man of the Waters. As soon as the ice on the nearby lake melted, he brought a pot and a handful of things from the cellar down to the shore and sat down to fish. His very first catch went straight into the pot; he remembered the man telling him that boiled fish would do as well, but Ukko decided a proper soup was in order for this first ritual.
Just as the fisherman had instructed, he left the pot of soup on the shore for the spirits to taste, and then left the lake shore to tend to some chores at home.
Remembering the ritual also made Ukko recall that he hadn’t spoken to any of his tribesmen since the winter. He made certain the smoker was hot enough for two days, then traveled up into his tribe’s territory to visit the villages.
Right away, one of his friends greeted him warmly—and with the news that a wounded adventurer had crawled into the village. Iskko was the stranger’s name, he learned, and he had been attacked by a wolf. His spear was lost (a northern spear, the very kind Ukko had not been able to find in more than rough quality for trade), and in exchange for its return he offered the location of a treasure.
Ukko’s heart raced. The last treasure was not yet exhausted—four bear furs, a wolf fur, and a forest reindeer fur, all of the finest quality, still decorated his bunk. Who knew what he might end up bringing back this time?
The spear was found easily enough. The treasure proved a little more elusive.
For one thing, Ukko was delayed in making a serious search for it. Somehow a wolf snuck into his settlement and killed his pig and reindeer stag; in the fray the animal pen was left open, and the sheep escaped. But worst of all, the wolf lunged for Lumi’s throat—and, in an instant, Ukko’s most faithful companion was gone.
Furious, Ukko beat the injured wolf to death with his spear.
Though he hung up the wolf’s meat, the pig’s, and the reindeer’s in the smoker, he buried Lumi’s body at the foot of a great stone, where he could soak up the sun as he had done in life.
He was too distracted by his loss to notice that he had failed to skin any of the carcasses he’d butchered. He wasn’t even particularly dismayed when the second treasure turned out to be much smaller than the first, though still quite valuable. He simply missed Lumi, and would have to readjust to an entirely solitary life.
*
That summer was the richest yet. There was no need for Ukko to hunt: elk and forest reindeer stumbled into his pit traps regularly, and several foxes found their way into his paw-board traps. And, perhaps best of all, one day as he was chopping firewood he saw a small white figure come trotting through the trees. His sheep, which he had believed lost forever, had wandered home.
She seemed more than pleased to be back in her pen again. A few days later, when a wolf crept into the settlement to try and snatch her up, Ukko shot it down where it stood.
His large garden produced an absurd amount of turnips (some of which he fed to the sheep). His cellar held enough preserved meat for two village feasts. Though he traded away several furs for a precious silver ring and some foreign weapons, his stash of fur at home was nearly four times his own weight.
Near the line of pit traps he had dug to the east, he found a stranger wandering, desperately lost. Ukko still remembered how frightening his few weeks totally alone had been, and brought the fellow south to a Sartolais village. In gratitude the man taught him a charm for catching foxes.
A second elk stumbled into a pit trap an hour north of his settlement. After tanning the fur and hanging out the meat to dry, Ukko found himself wondering whether he should consult the spirits. They had blessed him so far with bounty, and he wanted to make certain he was behaving properly towards them.
Late in Swidden month, he approached the anthill at the northwestern corner of his settlement, and in the dark carved a few shards off a silver bracelet into the nest. With his heart in his throat he waited for the spirit to approach.
Ukko was sleepy, having spent a long day finishing the tanning process, but he found himself wide awake under the dim moonlight as a pale figure faced him. He seemed to be all silver himself, with his grey beard and hat and his lichen overcoat. Ukko scarcely dared to breathe—until the old man smiled.
In a voice like a warm wind in the branches, he murmured, “Set your traps and wield your weapons, for there is an elk in the north-west for you.”
Another elk! Ukko couldn’t help but remember the early days of his independence, scrounging for whatever little food he could fish or snare, nearly freezing and starving. An elk had been his salvation then, and it seemed that even now the spirits intended for him to remain well-fed and warm.
As Ukko bowed his head in gratitude, he resolved to make some sort of shrine to whatever spirit governed the elk, thanking them for their favor.
*
Summer! This year the snow melted quickly, and the world once again began to bloom in a thousand shades of green. It was a relief to take off the heavy burden of skis and bear fur coat and cloak.
With no major building projects at the settlement and a fresh crop of turnips planted, the first weeks of summer were spent tanning the hides and smoking the meat of several more elk caught in his pit traps. There had indeed been one in the north-west, at the very edge of his settlement: another yearling bull. Ukko laid the first cut of meat out gently for the spirits, this time in the middle of a small nest of elk antlers he had fashioned into a shrine of sorts.
He also recalled well what he had learned the previous year from the fisherman who had taught him how to see the Old Man of the Waters. As soon as the ice on the nearby lake melted, he brought a pot and a handful of things from the cellar down to the shore and sat down to fish. His very first catch went straight into the pot; he remembered the man telling him that boiled fish would do as well, but Ukko decided a proper soup was in order for this first ritual.
Just as the fisherman had instructed, he left the pot of soup on the shore for the spirits to taste, and then left the lake shore to tend to some chores at home.
Remembering the ritual also made Ukko recall that he hadn’t spoken to any of his tribesmen since the winter. He made certain the smoker was hot enough for two days, then traveled up into his tribe’s territory to visit the villages.
Right away, one of his friends greeted him warmly—and with the news that a wounded adventurer had crawled into the village. Iskko was the stranger’s name, he learned, and he had been attacked by a wolf. His spear was lost (a northern spear, the very kind Ukko had not been able to find in more than rough quality for trade), and in exchange for its return he offered the location of a treasure.
Ukko’s heart raced. The last treasure was not yet exhausted—four bear furs, a wolf fur, and a forest reindeer fur, all of the finest quality, still decorated his bunk. Who knew what he might end up bringing back this time?
The spear was found easily enough. The treasure proved a little more elusive.
For one thing, Ukko was delayed in making a serious search for it. Somehow a wolf snuck into his settlement and killed his pig and reindeer stag; in the fray the animal pen was left open, and the sheep escaped. But worst of all, the wolf lunged for Lumi’s throat—and, in an instant, Ukko’s most faithful companion was gone.
Furious, Ukko beat the injured wolf to death with his spear.
Though he hung up the wolf’s meat, the pig’s, and the reindeer’s in the smoker, he buried Lumi’s body at the foot of a great stone, where he could soak up the sun as he had done in life.
He was too distracted by his loss to notice that he had failed to skin any of the carcasses he’d butchered. He wasn’t even particularly dismayed when the second treasure turned out to be much smaller than the first, though still quite valuable. He simply missed Lumi, and would have to readjust to an entirely solitary life.
*
That summer was the richest yet. There was no need for Ukko to hunt: elk and forest reindeer stumbled into his pit traps regularly, and several foxes found their way into his paw-board traps. And, perhaps best of all, one day as he was chopping firewood he saw a small white figure come trotting through the trees. His sheep, which he had believed lost forever, had wandered home.
She seemed more than pleased to be back in her pen again. A few days later, when a wolf crept into the settlement to try and snatch her up, Ukko shot it down where it stood.
His large garden produced an absurd amount of turnips (some of which he fed to the sheep). His cellar held enough preserved meat for two village feasts. Though he traded away several furs for a precious silver ring and some foreign weapons, his stash of fur at home was nearly four times his own weight.
Near the line of pit traps he had dug to the east, he found a stranger wandering, desperately lost. Ukko still remembered how frightening his few weeks totally alone had been, and brought the fellow south to a Sartolais village. In gratitude the man taught him a charm for catching foxes.

)