Trafika Europe 1 - Northern Idyll

When Løbner returned to Copenhagen, his heyday was past, and, in this respect, he was no different than his homeland. At this point, Denmark was a half-blind geographical bagatelle located on the Øresund. The Swedish had taken Norway, and even though Frederik VII’s jurisdiction still included an area extending down to Eideren, there were voices who demanded that both Slesvig and Holsten join the new German Confederation. As a result, it was in question how long Jutland would be still called a Danish peninsula. A smile tugged at fru Løbner’s lips and for a short moment she resembled her peculiar nickname: Sildahøvdið or “Herring Head.” She gestured to the outer door and asked him to follow. On the other side of the walk lay the county administrator’s yard, and within it was the storehouse. She kept the key to the padlock on a cord around her neck, and when she opened the door, Old Tóvó put his hand to his heart. Oh, what a beautiful sight! Several handsome barrels of salted meat stood there on the floor. Besides whale meat and blubber, she also had lamb and guillemots in brine. On a trough sat some lightly salted mutton packed in white cloth, and the shelves held several jars in which fru Løbner “Now I know you,” she said, placing a hand on Old Tóvó’s arm. “You’re Tórálvur from Geil.”


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