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Inspirational Reads


May 4, 2010

Orme was a rich man. He held vast tracts of land on the Scandinavian peninsula which was filled with elm trees. As such, he could afford many wives. When a man has many wives, he has many children. As such, Orme proved to be a very virile man, fathering several strong, healthy sons.

As each one became a man, Orme divvied his lands so that each son would also have a large plot of land to do with as he saw fit. However, when the last son came of age, Orme did not have enough land to give to his son. This son, Orme the Lesser, was forced to seek his fortune elsewhere.

During the middle of the eighth century, as it was reckoned by the Christian calendar, Scandinavian raiders, known collectively as Vikings, were spreading across the northern seas. With the madness that was gripping the mainland of Europe in the wake of the fall of the Roman Empire and the power vacuum that it left, the Vikings found the northern territories ripe and easy for the plunder. Orme the Lesser enlisted with the Vikings.

Their raids took them to the Scottish coast, and the Scots were prepared for the Viking raiders. The Scots were fierce in their fighting, and held the Vikings at bay. The Viking chief rallied his soldiers, telling them that the first man to set foot on the land would be granted rulership of what they captured. So, the invaders fought with a renewed vigor. During the battle, Orme the Lesser lost part of his leg. He tied off the wound, but was rendered ineffective for the remainder of the battle.

The rallying cry of the Viking chief proved successful, and the Scot defenders were sent running from the battlefield. As the men were moving to take the shore, Orme the Lesser took his severed leg and threw it over the heads of the men on the shore, his foot hitting the Scottish soil first. Bound by his word, the Viking Chief granted the territory to Orme the Lesser.

Orme recovered from his battle wounds and began to cultivate a wealthy life for himself. He had many people in his employment, and they began taking on the name of Orme's lands, or Orme's by, "by" being a word that means "place". It is comparable to German cities whose names end in "burgh" or English towns with the suffix "bury".

As the kingdoms to the south began to be unified under one crown, Angleland, later to be known as England, the kings from the south began to extend their influence north. By this time, Orme the Lesser was just a folk hero, a founder of what would become a proud family--so proud, in fact, that they refused to bow before the southern kings and, instead, fought them until they could no longer withstand English rule.

Admiring their bravery, the English king offered a barony to the leader of Clan Ormesby in what is now Lincolnshire. The leader of House Ormesby agreed and moved the family to Lincolnshire. There, they ruled for some time in service to the English king, until William the Conqueror brought the Normans to the shores of Great Britain. As the battles raged back and forth, the Baron of Ormesby was able to capture the daughter of a Norman noble. Seeing the powerful bargaining chip they owned, the English were thrilled.

The Ormesby, however, was thinking between his thighs and soon fell for the Norman lass, helping her escape and taking her back to the Norman camp. Ormesby then defected, swearing his allegiance to the Norman invaders. Once England was subjugated by the invaders, William the Conquerer killed the leaders of House Ormesby of Lincolnshire and installed Richard the Defector as the Baron of Ormesby and thereby granted him a knighthood. To differentiate from the original Ormesby name, Richard dropped the "e" from the middle and the family name became Ormsby. Various other spellings still exist, including Ormesby, Ormsbee, and Ormesbee.

Eventually, descendants of Orme made their way to the new world. Ignoring the traitorous and deceptive blood coursing through their veins (or not), they began to help settle the new world, a large portion of them stopping and setting down roots in northeastern Indiana. For the most part, they were farmers and rapacious hunters.

One of them, by the name of Ivan, married a woman named Emma, who preferred to be called Lucille, and they had nine children. One of those, a daughter named Betty, married a man named Davis. They had three children, all daughters. The middle daughter married a man by the name Jenks.

And he sired me.

So, when I get caught up in a Viking frame of mind, like I'm in right now, I can't help myself. It's in the blood. It is required for me to pillage and plunder.

Someone pass me the mead. Let's drink one to Orme!

Too bad Wednesday was right. This stuff does taste like piss.


Scope said...

Tastes like piss? Well that's what you get when you send Loki for your beer.

BigSis said...

I LOVE this story. I've been researching my family's roots and have only gotten a few good stories (like an 8th grandma who was hung in Salem for being a witch.) I'm thinking that if I sent you the facts, you'd make the story sound much better. You really are quite a writer MJenks!

Wynn said...


I'm totally convinced that I'm involved in the whole viking blood too, all parts of my family comes from areas where they roamed and lived.

Hear hear!

Anonymous said...

Great story, very interesting.

btw we stole stuff

SkylersDad said...

I would risk being run through by that saucy Viking lass!

Ed said...

I don't know about this Orme dude, but that redhead chic is hot.

adrienzgirl said...

My BIL and SIL had a themed wedding. That of course we had to be in. GAG. Very Renaissance"esque". They served Mead. IT'S. DAMN. NASTY.