Nights were long in Iceland winters of long ago.
As the family worked in the red fire-light, the father told of the king.
Everybody\'s hands were busy with wool.
The grown people were on a long narrow bench that they had pulled up to the light and warmth.
The children sat on the dirt floor close by the fire.
Smoke curled along the high beams of the ceiling.
Shadows flitted in the dark corners.
That fire gave the only light.
A whole family sat for hours around the fire in the middle of the room.
Nights were long in Iceland winters of long ago