This morning, during my writing time, I committed to paper (well, screen) my conception of the Battle of Stiklestad, where King (Saint) Olaf of Norway died, in circumstances that remain contentious among historians.

Above is a video I managed to find on YouTube at last, which seemed to me worth sharing. It’s a Vlog post, not very sophisticated, describing the Vlogger’s attendance at a recent production of the Stiklestad Drama, which is performed every year in an open-air theater near the battle site (which, due to topographical changes, is impossible to precisely locate anymore). This play has been going on almost annually since 1954 (it was one of Liv Ullman’s first acting gigs). No doubt the script has changed over the years, as Norwegians become less enamored of their Christian legacy.

This appears to have been the first production after the Covid shutdown, and had the distinction of being the first time (as far as I know) that St. Olaf was portrayed without a beard. I can’t say I approve.

Also, I note that in the associated art exhibit, there’s a “tree” called the Verdenstreet (World Tree), where children are encouraged to hang prayers. This is an obvious bow to heathenism, and I can’t say I approve of that either.

But Stiklestad is on my mind (I had ancestors from the area) and I thought I’d share something about it today. Describing the battle was a surprisingly emotional experience for me, even if I’m not a great fan of Olaf. As I wrote my books, he grew in my sympathy. Also, I killed off a couple old friends (I’m not saying whom).

What’s left of writing the first draft for me is mostly mopping up, tying up loose ends. Then, of course, there follow as many revisions as it takes.

As Olaf himself (reportedly) said: “Fram!” (Forward!)