After the banquet festivities, two months of intense preparation passed. During that time, Hárekr made his strategy clear to his mother: he would not take the entire fleet available from the fylki, but would leave a considerable contingent for the defense of Gauldal. He had analyzed the situation well and knew he could not leave his home unprotected, especially when there was intense movement of rival jarls through the neighboring fjords.
Many of those leaders were setting sail for Denmark with the purpose of joining the great raid organized by the sons of Ragnarr against the kingdom of East Anglia. However, Hárekr charted his own plan, after discussing it in detail with two of the four chieftains in his mother’s service.
Torstein, as a veteran warrior with extensive raiding experience, decided to embark on the journey accompanied by his son, Thorir.
At the gates of autumn, when the waters of the North Sea began to grow rough with icy winds, five snekkjur, light, swift vessels easy to maneuver, were ready in the fjord. Each had a capacity of about forty men.
They were barely two hundred warriors in total: a reduced force to face the immensity of the Western Ocean and the Saxon lands. Nevertheless, no one questioned Hárekr’s decision. All the men had been carefully selected one by one by him and by Torstein.
At the moment of casting off and leaving Gauldal behind, Lagertha remained standing on the planks of the dock, watching in silence as the five sails drew away into the mists of the fjord. Contemplating her son’s determination, who having been able to dispose of an entire fleet had preferred to sail with two hundred loyal men, the Jarl raised a prayer in her thoughts:
’May Odin and Thor guide your steps, my son.’
A week later on the open sea, the waves lashed furiously against the wooden hulls. For Hárekr, this journey represented the first time he had gone so far from the coasts of Gauldal. The seasickness had made him vomit on several occasions, earning him the mockery of Torstein and his son Thorir, the only ones on board with enough confidence to laugh openly at the future jarl.
Torstein, watching him leaning over the gunwale, asked:
"Lagerthuson, in a few hours we will sight the island of the old jarls. What do you plan to do when we arrive?"
Hárekr knew which archipelago he spoke of: Hjaltland, the Shetland Islands. He wiped his mouth and replied in a firm voice:
"The jarls of that island will provide us with men and provisions. If they refuse to cooperate, we will raid it."
Thorir, who always possessed a more bloodthirsty spirit hungry for combat, smiled with enthusiasm upon hearing him. He was sixteen years old, the same age as Hárekr, and they had been raised together since childhood as true brothers. However, Thorir stood out for being exceptionally robust and focused on war. He intervened immediately:
"Let me go to the front, Hárekr. I will warn them that they must receive you as is proper. If they do not, the men of the fjord will crush them."
Torstein looked at his son, recognizing the courage burning in his chest, but added with prudence:
Then he looked at Hárekr with a questioning tone. The young leader looked at the veteran and ordered:
"Let him go."
Torstein nodded in silence, with no intention of questioning his lord’s will.
Without hesitation, Thorir jumped to one of the vessels sailing alongside, temporarily moored by a system of ropes invented by Hárekr to keep the ships together during short crossings, an ingenious method, though risky on the open sea due to the wear on the ropes.
Thorir took command of that ship along with twenty warriors and ordered the pace to be accelerated:
"Row with strength!"
Thorir shouted, whose figure already reached nearly two meters in height at sixteen years old, rising like a true giant among the crew.
Hárekr watched him disappear into the mist with emotion, wishing him luck in his heart. He knew that sending a vanguard was a risky maneuver, but also the best strategy to secure the island before arriving.
An hour later, on the coasts of the Shetland Islands, a solitary vessel approached the shore bearing the insignia of a Jarl extremely famous in Norway: Lagertha.
The local leader, Jarl Geirr, was alerted to the sighting and rushed to the cliffs to gauge the distance. Recognizing the standard, he turned to his son, Barni, who remained at his side:
"They come from Gauldal. We must welcome them."
Barni looked at the ship with suspicion and replied:
"Father, you know well what they come for. We cannot allow them to recruit our men."
Jarl Geirr sketched a cunning smile and murmured:
"There are plenty of foreigners and mercenaries wandering the island. Let them take those."
He spoke with the calm of one who already has a plan. Barni nodded, pleased.
Minutes later, Thorir’s snekkja ran aground on the beach. The twenty warriors accompanying him disembarked immediately; they all knew each other from belonging to the same fjord, which instilled a bond of loyalty toward their leader.
"What brings you to our lands?"
Thorir, holding his gaze firmly, replied without beating around the bush:
"The son of Jarl Lagertha approaches with a fleet. We demand to be received as is proper."
Geirr concealed his unease behind a brief bow of respect and answered:
"So be it. To receive the son of the most famous skjaldm?r (shieldmaiden) of our people is an honor for this island."
Thorir cared little for the Jarl’s flattery. Without lowering his guard, he remained on the beach coordinating the preparations for Hárekr’s arrival, satisfied to confirm that the reception would be peaceful and without setbacks.
Hours later, the ships began to appear on the horizon. Thanks to Thorir, the entire island was informed that Lagertha’s son would remain there for a few days. Because of this, many mercenaries and wandering warriors gathered at the port, eager to offer their axes in exchange for the gold the young Norwegian might have at his disposal.
On the island lived two Jarls, who maintained constant disputes over control of the territory, the region being practically divided between them. The second Jarl, named Einar, was a much more fervent and devout man.
As soon as the ships began to disembark, Einar arrived at the beach as quickly as possible. The lineage of noble Scandinavian families mattered enormously to him; for him, warriors like Lagertha were figures completely blessed by the gods.
Meeting on the shore, both Jarls stared at each other. Geirr said in a sarcastic tone:
"You want to grab a piece of the pie, don’t you, old man?"
Einar replied seriously:
"This visit is nothing simple. I advise you not to think of cunning plans, or you will end up hunted by Fenrir."
Geirr was somewhat impressed by the warning. He knew that old Einar was very wise in several aspects; although Geirr had tried in many ways to snatch his domains, the old man, even with few men, maintained a fierce defense alongside his most loyal soldiers.
Meanwhile, Hárekr descended from the ship and approached both, walking with serenity and with Torstein guarding his back. His men from the fjord began to mingle and line up with the warriors they already knew on the island. Being a strategic point close to Norway for resupplying before the raids on the Saxon lands, many of them had already crossed paths in past battles.