Viking Gods Song
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Grimnir the Strong, god of war and hunting
Riagilf, goddess of fertility and beauty
Úlfhéðinn, god of the hunt
Sól, goddess of fertility
Fáfnir, god of fire
Thór, god of thunder
Týr, god of death and strife
Mjölnir, god of strength
The gods are angry with me. It is clear to see it in their faces; all eyes turn on me as they pass. The gods of the people, that is, not the gods of my own blood. All of them look like they wish a curse on me for what I did tonight, but no one does more than frown, mutter a few words under their breath, or shake their heads as they continue on through the village square.
It’s too late at night for most folk to be awake, so I have plenty of time to watch the passing faces. None of them seem to notice me, not even when I step off the curb of the road and walk across the empty space between it and a nearby hedge.
Most of them go about their business, some of the women stopping to speak quietly among themselves at their children’s doorways, others still bent over bowls and baskets of bread and milk at the tables outside their houses.
The air is cool this late at night, and the smell of spring flowers comes from the nearby gardens where many of the folk work to prepare food for the coming summer months. This place was built with such fine attention to detail that I know its builders could never find the way back to Valhalla, though I think they’d enjoy their time here.
Even if they don’t enjoy their time, there is nothing I can do to change it.
It’s an old farmstead; I’ve been here often enough. The family who built it died out ages ago. A few generations back, maybe three or four, the people who had lived here had a falling out and left the area. They moved north to live closer to the land, away from the crowded towns of men and the cities where we all came from.
But they never came back. No one knew exactly why the people left, not even the locals. Rumor said it was due to a man called Gunnar who wanted to settle down in the village where he had fallen in love with a local girl. She’d refused him, though, so he left. I’d seen a few of them over the years.
They lived far to the north, but I knew that even if I found them, they would have nothing to say to me. They never liked us, but they tolerated our presence. But I did not know that we had lost them to Odin or Thor or any of the other gods until just now.
The old farmhouse sits on the edge of a large wood. There are plenty of trees around here, and it’s a good place to hide from enemies as long as you avoid the road that cuts through the center of the fields. This is not an area known for battles, so it’s hard for me to believe it might be where my father has come from. If he’s not here, I don’t know where he could be.
But he has been gone for two days now. Two days of wandering through these woods, following this stream and that creek, always watching for something he can’t see because he is blind. That must be how the gods are guiding him. He thinks he’s looking for me. In truth, the gods sent him here hoping to drive him to his death.
“I hope that I’ve made myself clear,” I say. “There is nothing left to lose.”
Odin, God of All Things, listens intently to me with his face turned away; he doesn’t even blink when I curse the god. I feel no remorse, even now that my eyes are open. I will pay a high price for what I did tonight, but I have paid far too much already.
The gods are punishing me for my crimes, but in the end, there are no consequences they can deliver that are worse than losing my father’s company and being cast out of Valhalla. It is my greatest regret. When I’m gone, I will not come back as another man’s father and father-in-law.
There will be no grandchildren for me, nothing but a cold stone to sit upon while Odin laughs at my failures. I have earned all that will come from the gods, but even so, I wish them well. They are harsh and unforgiving people, but then, we are cruel people. Even when we do what is right, there is often blood on our hands.
It’s too late to return home. There’s a chance my father may be waiting for me there, ready to murder me. And if that turns out not to be true, he’d never let me back into Valhalla again. No, best not to waste any time, for every second that passes, Odin grows stronger and more powerful. If I don’t hurry, I will find my death before I find my father.
“You are too weak to kill me, but you have no fear,” I tell him, though there is no way Odin can understand me, no matter how many words I speak or which language I use. “There is nothing you can do to harm me. So why waste your energy?
You have enough for the battle with your enemies in Valhalla. But the fight is far from over. This will not end here. When we meet again, you’ll know it.”
I stand slowly, knowing full well I am not going to survive this confrontation, that my death will be the last thing I will see before I pass to the next realm. It doesn’t matter anyway. I can die honorably, fighting with a god rather than being hunted like a dog through the forest by a monster who knows nothing of honor or courage.
My eyes are wide open now and my mind is clear. I feel no fear or worry about my death. All that matters is the battle. For once in my life, I want to be a man who lives by his sword and not my words.
In the end, I’ve done nothing nobler than kill men; they are nothing more than animals to me, and if one has a short temper or a weakness that allows a spear to slip between his ribs, then that is just as good an end as any.
The wind rises and rustles the leaves above me as if a giant hand was passing over, making them shiver and shake. I watch with satisfaction as Odin’s golden hair flutters around his shoulders in the breeze. His cloak has grown much darker since yesterday, though it is still brighter than mine. And he moves forward, his long white beard and silver armor catching the light of the setting sun.
“I have no need of your gifts of power,” I tell him as we come face to face on the ridge overlooking the farmhouse. “I’m the one with magic in my blood, and you are too weak to use it.”
As he draws closer, I see that the dark cloud over his head has expanded until it covers half the sky, blotting out the stars and turning night into day. I know it must be because of me, not just this night’s work, but what I’ve done over the past few years.
The gods know that I have no love for my father’s enemies, that I want nothing more than to see my kin defeated and driven from these lands, but even so, that’s small solace to my dying body.
We stand facing each other now, our eyes locked and neither of us backing away. He is bigger than I am, larger than any man I can remember ever seeing, but still, I think I might be faster than he.
“It will not matter soon,” Odin says, raising his voice to fill the night. “I have won the fight. Now, you are mine to command. Your magic may have given me this victory, but when I cast you out, it will be for good. For you will never return.”
There is no answer I can give him. The last thing I want to do is serve as Odin’s pawn again, so I keep quiet, though the words flow through my mind like water in a creek bed after the rain, threatening to overflow any moment.
“This was your greatest trick,” he says at length. “To bring me here, then turn around and run like a coward back home to hide from your crimes. What kind of son does that?”
“You’ll never find that out. I don’t plan to come back to Asgard,” I say, watching him carefully. “That is for others to decide now. You’ve made my life a living hell for all these years. But if you’re truly ready to die, let’s put this fight to an end. Then we can leave this place in peace and you can die, finally free of me. That will be for the best.”
For the first time in many years, Odin looks uncomfortable, his lips turning down at the corners and his eyes darting in different directions as he tries to gauge how much danger he might be in. It’s as though he doesn’t realize he’s standing right next to a god of death.
I watch as he slowly turns his head and points his finger in my direction as if he can somehow burn me into nothingness with just a word or gesture.
But the dark clouds overhead shift and twist, as if the wind itself has taken on the power of an invisible hand and is pushing them aside. It’s as if the sky is shaking in an effort to rid itself of this dark cloud hanging over it.
I see Odin wince, as though the effort to move the dark shadow of that cloud were too much for him to bear. He turns his body to the south, his face grim and drawn as he fights the storm of wind and darkness.
The wind picks up as it passes him by, sending the cloud racing northward away from us in an unbroken ribbon. As soon as they are gone, the stars come out again, lighting the world and casting their soft glow against the clouds so that there seems nothing between us except night and moonlight.
I turn to look behind me, expecting to see a black hole sucking me and Odin into some dark, bottomless pit. There’s no sign of the storm clouds now, nothing but the star-studded heavens above and a few low-lying clouds.
“I did what you wanted me to do,” I tell him, still watching as he struggles with his dark cloud, which is starting to drift closed again. “Now stop trying to keep me here. Let’s end this.”
But instead of obeying, Odin turns his back to me and walks off the ridge toward the farm, disappearing among the trees below. “You’ll be sorry when I have my vengeance,” he calls from somewhere out of sight.
My heart is pounding, but I know I cannot follow. If I am going to die tonight, then I must make the most of it.
I run down the ridge, passing the bodies of the fallen warriors. My mother is still alive, I see, but she sits on the ground, staring blankly ahead. There’s blood seeping from her wound at her side, as if some unseen hand has reached into her body and started digging its talons deep into her flesh.
I pause and kneel down beside her, my eyes never leaving her face. She doesn’t seem to notice me, which isn’t surprising considering she has been unconscious for several hours. It was the blow I had struck with my sword that took her life. Now it seems my father’s magic is taking her from me as well.
She looks so small and frail now, like an old woman instead of a warrior. As I watch her, she closes her eyes for the last time and falls asleep forever. I try to move her myself, but the pain in my side stops me and I decide that even if I were stronger than I am, moving her would only prolong her death.
Instead, I cover her body with some branches to shield her from the chill wind coming up from below.
I turn back to Odin, who is now just a few hundred paces away. He is standing there alone, not fighting the storm, but somehow managing to hold it back. His cloak swirls around him, fluttering and lifting in the wind as if he is a child playing hide-and-seek among the trees.
I wonder what will happen when he finally does lose the struggle against the darkness and the storm breaks free. Would that be when you die, or do the winds and darkness keep growing until they swallow us all? What happens then to those who were supposed to be left behind as the clouds passed?
Will there be another fight over these lands once more, or are we all gone from this place? Or will we simply return to wherever the winds take us and the dark cloud lifts and fade to nothingness like it did before?
“Are you ready?” Odin asks, his voice sounding like a soft whisper in my ears. He has returned to the same place where we started, the clearing at the foot of the ridge. There’s no sign of his black cloud or the dark storm he is struggling to hold back.
“I thought as much,” he continues, still speaking quietly. He looks tired, worn by his efforts, but I can see on his face that he is pleased with having succeeded. It was the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done, following him out into the open like this, knowing what was out here waiting for us. But if I had waited behind him, I would have been dead already.
The stars shine brightly overhead now, casting a silver glow across the landscape as if night never happened. And as far as I can tell, there are no dark clouds looming in the distance. It seems like nothing is left of the dark cloud save a vague shadow on the horizon.
“What about your father?” I ask my mind still not sure what exactly this is all about.
Odin doesn’t answer; he just stands there looking down at me. Finally, he sighs.
“Your father was never the sort of man who wanted to fight other men on the field of battle,” he tells me. “And now he has lost his chance. The only reason your father was able to kill the Dark Elf was that you were watching him. He couldn’t have defeated him without your help.”
That explains why we were all left alive, though I hadn’t put two and two together yet. My father must have known what Odin planned, but I doubt he anticipated it would go so well.
Odin pauses again. “I will take the ring, but not for myself,” he says finally. He holds out his hand. “Give me the ring, Ospak of Sweden. And then give me your oath as well.”
I’m silent for a moment, torn between honoring my father’s dying request and obeying Odin. I look back at my mother’s body, still hidden beneath branches. If I don’t honor my word to my father, he dies too. And if I do honor it, I might end up killing my own sister.
But that is where my fear gets me again like it did when I first faced my father. My fear of death has kept me from being able to make good choices and to trust those I love. So instead of answering Odin, I kneel beside the dead body of my father and place the ring on his finger. Then I rise and face Odin, taking his hands into mine, which makes him smile.
“I’ll take it for now,” he says, removing the ring from my fingers and holding it out for me to see. It is a silver ring, made in the shape of a leaf, and carved with runes and strange symbols along its length. But it doesn’t look anything like a ring of power, like Odin’s other rings did. Instead, it seems plain and ordinary, just as any human ring would look on anyone’s finger.
The End