Black and grey realism full sleeve tattoo on an arm, showing a horned helmeted Viking, a woman warrior, a longship and knotwork bands, with a few red and orange oak leaves, across the upper arm and

Viking warrior full sleeve

Realism · Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

A full sleeve shown from three angles, with a large bearded Viking in a horned helmet at the centre and a woman warrior with a sword above a smaller armed figure lower down. Smooth shading, soft smoke-like clouds and lightning bolts sit behind the figures, with a longship and a shield at the base of the arm. Mostly black and grey, with a few red and orange oak leaves as accents, and a knotwork band at the wrist.

Realism Upper arm Forearm Warrior Helmet Beard Lightning Knotwork Shield Sword Cloud

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The storm came up the bay on the third night of the Oak Fair, and Mrs Pim, who kept the boarding house at the top of Gullet Lane, went round every room with a candle to see the shutters were closed. In the back attic a lodger was still awake, sitting on the bed with his boots on and a carved helmet in his lap, polishing the horns with a rag as though the wind were a rival he meant to beat.

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His name was Sigurd Hale, though the register said Samuel. He told her he had come to the coast to find a longship his grandmother had described. She said the only boat in Skelmby was a rowing boat with a hole in it. He laughed and said the old folk always said that, and that the sea was full of things they had sworn to. Then lightning came over the headland, white and forked, the whole house shook, and he was on his feet with his hand on a hilt she was sure he had not been carrying when he came in.

She went down to the kitchen and put the kettle on. When she came back up with the tea, the attic was empty except for the helmet and a sprig of oak leaves, two of them already gone red at the edges, lying on the blanket. Through the window the bay was a black sheet, and out on it, very faint, a boat with a dragon prow and a shield hung along its side was riding the swell toward the harbour wall, a woman standing in its bow with her sword raised.

Mrs Pim set the tea down, took up the leaves, and pinned them above the door where the next lodger would see them. In the morning the boat was gone and the rowing boat still had its hole. The harbourmaster said there had never been a ship. Mrs Pim said she only ever pours for guests who come back.