I am not sure where I am going with this, but it feels right.
The sky was darkened with
shiny beads of light, racing towards the ground. With each collision, the
little fat rain circlets chimed into the wind.
“The people have forgotten us,” insisted Ares as he walked to the
back of the garden and rested his hands on a small wet glistening pillar.
“No, that’s not it. The people have no need for us. They have not forgotten us,
they have shrines with our likeness centered in their gardens. Our people
believe us to be dead and gone because they are defeated,” explained Phobos as
he took a small circlet into captivity. “Yet, there are mortals who still
believe in Gods. Those mortals are panicking because they feel a great war is
about to open up and pour chaos onto their grounds. Some are worried about
never being able to join their brothers in the great Valhalla. Our people are
silent. I have summoned you here because their panic gives life to me and it
makes me wonder, father. We can be great again. We can silence the other Gods
by taking their believers. We need only one follower who can perform magical
works by way of us, and bring back the Greek Gods.”
“We are dead, Phobos, are we not? Zeus wanted all of the Gods forgotten and
buried. He wanted us to stay out of the human’s problems.”
“Zeus, is weak. He gave his power up to protect the mount. Are we to waste away
because he is no longer great? Ares, you still have the power over war. You can
become the new leader over Mount Olympus. We are not dead, we are not weak, and
we did not give up who we are to be forgotten by these mindless people. What if
we can make new followers and bring people back to us, would it not be worth
more than anything we have seen? I feel alive again, and I feel the need to
thrive. Are you with me, father?”
Ares looked down at his dark trousers and picked up a small bug. “Yes, and I
know exactly what to do.”
Scandinavia
“Wake up, my child. You are
needed for the great Ragnarok, go now.” Hertha grabbed her torch and flung it
around. “Who’s there? Come out!”
“Go back to sleep, you sackless gurl. The men will be needing that torch soon.
You better figure out how you plan to replace it before they figure out it is
missing. We have a few more hours before the sky brightens up,” snapped Erica
as she pulled the thick elk’s skin, over her shoulders.
“Nei, someone called out to me. The voice said I was needed for the Ragnarok.”
“The Ragnarok, and a twig of a girl, like yourself,” snorted Erica. “You are
hearing things. What can a skinny twig of a gurl like yourself, do in the great
battle? You my dear, are letting all of the elders get to you with their Odin
talk.”
“We all have a place in saving our people’s future. My slenderness makes me
quicker than most. What about our ma’s vision? She said we were destined to be
special. Do you not recall it? Besides, I know what I heard. I heard it in my
own ears. I could even feel his cold breath on my neck,” whispered Hertha as
she ran her fingers across the side of neck.
“Go back to sleep, Hertha.”
Hertha shook her head and put on a long dress with a thick brown cloak. “I know
what I heard, and it pisses me off that you do not believe me. I’m not going to
bed, I’m going for a walk.”
As the sun came up in the morning sky Hertha was able to take in an unbridled
look at the land. The snow was ankle deep and the branches were covered with a
heavy sheet of icy snow. The white blanket was so heavy that it bent the
branches of the trees, causing them to brush against the ground. While the
branches were cracking loudly underneath the heavy snow, animals were trying to
escape with their very lives.
“Go to the river,” whispered
a voice from the wind.
Hertha turned around and
looked for the owner of the voice. “Who’s there? Say it again.”
“Go to the river, and stick
your hand in the icy waters until your fingers start to burn,” demanded the
voice.
“Why should I? Why would I do
such a stupid thing? You wish to mangle my hand,” snorted Hertha.
The wind blew violently
forcing Hertha’s braid to unravel and fall below her shoulders like a river of
gold. Hertha held her cloak tighter against her body and held her head down.
“Who are you?”
“I am your protector, your
leader,” whispered the wind.
“Are you Thor? Are you
sending me into battle, Mighty Thor?”
The voice was quiet for a few
seconds. “Just go, Hertha. We are depending on you.”
Hertha moved faster through
the thick snow until she came upon the river. “Nei, it’s frozen. I can’t do
anything. It’s hard as a rock.”
A large boulder started to
roll from the mountain beside the river. Hertha ran behind a large tree as the
rock hit the icy river just adjacent to her body. “Go now, swim to the bottom
of the rock and there you will find it.”
“Find what?”
“Go!”
Hertha placed her cloak on
the ground and mumbled a silent prayer. “Gods save me now.” She rushed down
into the icy river. As she was swimming downward the waters started to harden.
“I’m going to die.” She pushed forward until she made it to the rock. By the
time she made it, the water was quickly turning back to ice. Near the ground
she saw something shiny shimmering. With her strength fading, she swam deeper
until she was on top of the long shiny metal. “It’s a sword.” She grabbed the
sword and began her journey to the top of the river. With each movement she
could feel her life slipping away. The sword was cutting away at the ice until
finally she was near the top. Her body floated to the bank and her eyes closed.
“Now that you have found my gift, we must talk.” The tall man bent down and
brushed his long dark cloak against Hertha’s face. “Hertha, hear me now. Listen
not with your trained eyes, but with your heart. You are needed for a great
cause. The Ragnarok will soon be upon us, and only the best of feigra manna,
will make it to great Valhalla. I need a guardian like yourself. I will give
you the gift of life and you will vow to serve us always.”
“Anything you say, Great Thor,” whispered Hertha weakly.
Ares held his cloak together
and smiled. “You have been chosen to die a great death for your people, but you
will be reborn. You will no longer be just Hertha. You are now be Hertha the
Great Valkyrie and this sword will be your protector, it is called ULFBERHT.”
A wave of confusion washed across Hertha’s face as she
slowly placed her hand around the sword's uniquely shaped hilt. The sword was
longer than her arm with oddly shaped letters running down the fuller. With
shaking arms, Hertha tried to hold the sword upwards in the air, but the blade
was too heavy to maintain.
Ares took hold of the sword, and smiled. "Be patient,
we are not finished yet.” Ares grabbed Hertha by the face and looked into her
eyes. Before her head hit the ground, he was off once again.
The snow started falling once again, covering both Hertha
and the sword. The coldest prompted Hertha to open her eyes once again. “Thor,
give me strength,” demanded Hertha. She grabbed the sword and thrust it into
the cold frozen ground. “Nei, I can do this.” She pulled herself up by pressing
her weight on top of the hilt. After she made it to her feet she looked around.
Her eyes were now focused. She no longer had problems with seeing objects far
away from her. She grabbed the sword and flung it in the air. “By the Gods, I
am great.”
Erica reached down for the wooden knob sticking out from
the door as Hertha was nearing the entrance. “Are you mad, gurl? I was about to
send the men for you. If you don’t want to be treated like a barn, you need to
act your age.”
“I’m going to fight in the next battle,” insisted Hertha as
she pulled her wet clothes off and placed them in a corner.
“Not this again—we have talked about this. You are not
fighting. You are not a warrior. You need to gain the attention of one of the
Lord’s sons. He has plenty and you can gain honor.”
Hertha looked at Erica sternly. “The Lord’s sons are all
sackless.”
“You can be beaten for that,” grunted an older man holding
a stein in his hand.
Hertha laughed and stepped into a pair of trousers.
“What are you doing, gurl?” Erica grabbed a dress and pressed
it against Hertha’s chest. “Are you looking for a fight?”
Hertha pushed the dress back in Erica’s arms. “You wear it.
I will not wear another dress. Why must I feel a draft drifting up my arse
every moment of the day? I can’t fight with a dress. They have on trousers and
thick cloaks. They have warm boots. I want warm boots too.”
Erica smiled nervously as the men started to gather around.
“For the love of Odin. Just go before you can’t go.”
With a big grin springing across Hertha’s face, she reached
for the door. Before she could open it, a large arm landed on her shoulder.
“Let me go.”
“Take off those trousers,” hissed a tall man with his hair
hanging below his chin.
“Let go of me.” As the words came tumbling out of Hertha’s
mouth, the man struck her across the cheek. Hertha reached up and grabbed the
man’s beard. She continued to pull him closer until he grabbed her by the
shoulder. She placed one leg firmly behind her and grabbed him once again with
both hands on his chin. “I said, let me go.”
The man reached down and placed his hand on Hertha’s
hip causing her sword to fall to the ground. Before she could grab the sword
the man picked it up and held it to the light. Hertha frowned deeply and
reached for the warrior’s arm. “Give me that, it isn’t yours.”
“It isn’t yours either. Who did you take this sword
from? You’re a thieving little, twit. I’ll show you.”
Ares looked down and shook his head. “Phobos, this is your
idea. You might want to help your little warrior.”
Phobos smiled as he looked down at the warrior. “Done.”
The warrior grabbed his head and looked around the room.
“Where am I? “Who are you?”
Hertha grabbed the sword as the men stood around looking
confused. “I have to go.”
Erica looked at the door. “I’ll come with you.”
Hertha pushed the door open and grabbed a nearby torch. “You
better hurry, I feel a storm brewing our way.”
“Quickly, come this way,” whispered a tall man with brown
wavy curls flowing down his back.
Erica pushed Hertha towards the side of the building. “Who are
you?”
“The gods have sent me to escort you to safety.” Phobos pulled
Hertha near his chest as other Viking warriors were coming from the inn. “Come
now.”
I am not sure how the end of this chapter sounds. At this point they still think Phobos is Thor. I don't know when I want this chapter to end, or what will happen.
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