Weak were men, striving to exist,

Amongst beast and spirit, one was nothing,

Without strength to fight, nor ability to coexist,

We were unwanted, the world’s scorn.

A divine revelation, the start of a journey,

Roamed we did, in search of it,

Through seas of sand, mountains of fire, wastelands of ice.

A holy pilgrimage to find our place.

It appeared, and took pity,

The land shook, the sky fell,

At the end, a sanctuary for us,

The Great Guardian was everything.

***************************************************************************************************

The teacher smiled after I finished reciting, “Even if you’re a truant, at least you know the work. See, kids, this is what a good student looks like, even though he is late, that hasn’t stopped him from memorising the Edda. You all should study hard lest you fall behind. Take a seat, young Sǫl and don’t be late for my classes again.”

“Yes, teacher Fróði.” There was a wry smile on my face as I tried to find an empty spot to sit down, ignoring the hostile stares I was getting from the other kids. The only free space was at the back of the room, so I tiptoed through the gaps between the kids to the spot and sat down. I turned my attention back to teacher Fróði, intent on learning anything new. These lessons were valuable; they gave me more information about our world and how we came to be.

Teacher Fróði was interpreting what this part of the Edda meant to make it easier for the kids to understand. It was understandable, considering we were all roughly the same age. “… and after our ancestors reached the sacred land foretold in the divine revelation, the Great Guardian appeared and provided us a safe haven for our people to flourish, which we named Vigrid.” After this, the lesson moved towards essential topics like math and grammar, which I tuned out. I had surpassed the level being taught a while ago and didn’t need to pay attention.

My thoughts drifted towards what the teacher said regarding the Edda, ‘The world beyond Vigrid, why haven’t we tried to leave? What’s stopping them from at least exploring the outside world after all this time? Same questions but no answers.’ My thoughts were interrupted by the shuffling of clothes, the lesson was over, and the kids were getting ready to leave. I stood at attention, same as the other kids, and in unison, the whole class uttered, “Thank you, Teacher Fróði.”

The children slowly filed out of the room while I waited at the back until it was clear. As the teacher was getting ready to leave, I cut him off, “Teacher Fróði, I have a question about the Edda.”

He was an aged man, long ashen coloured hair that fell past his shoulders, along with a braid that fell past his chest held together by a metal hair clip. His skin was pallid from the vicissitudes of life, and faded tattoos could be seen on the exposed part of his chest that peeked from the fur coat he wore. This, however, didn’t take away from him. His blue eyes were sharp and focused, his actions precise and deliberate smoothly flowing from one to another, almost like watching a resting predator.

Seeing the childlike curiosity plastered on my face, he paused. “And what question might you have, young Sǫl?”

“How did we get the divine revelation?” We had only recently been introduced to the Edda, and this was one of the burning questions I had after reading it, but I only got the opportunity to ask now.

At the question, I noticed his face slightly stiffen before it turned into one of thoughtfulness, “Hmmm, that’s a hard question to answer, my boy. The Edda doesn’t state how we got the divine revelation.” He came closer and whispered into my ear, “But I’ll tell you it was brought forth by a great seeress, someone who could speak with the spirits and summon their aid. But don’t tell anyone. This is a secret, okay.” He made a hushing gesture before ruffling my hair and continued, “You are a smart boy, keep questioning the world around you, and if fate decrees it, you will find the answers you seek one day.”

I didn’t bother hiding the excited look on my face as I thanked teacher Fróði for the lesson and left the room. ‘Fate? What is fate other than something people attribute their circumstances to when they are too weak to change it? When they are too weak to control it. No, I refuse to be led by something so fickle. I will grasp fate by the neck, wring out the answers I seek and cast it aside once it no longer has any use to me.’ Seeress… finally, there was a clue to go on and hopefully start unravelling the situation surrounding me. I strolled through the house, lost in thought, only realising I was in my room when the door slammed shut.

It was past midday by now, and I was starting to get peckish, but there were some things I needed before heading out. Grabbing the leather satchel on the table, I placed my notebook and writing utensils which consisted of a quill and bottle of ink inside. Opening the door, I headed towards the kitchens hoping that there was still some food left. I had missed lunch which took place before the lessons with teacher Fróði.

Entering the kitchen, I called a maid over and inquired if there was any food left, to which she replied with a shake of the head. ‘Ah well, good thing I always eat a big breakfast. I’m sure there’ll be some food at fathers place anyway.’ I thanked her before heading to the front of the house. At this time of day, most of the adult family members were out of the house with only a scarce few in charge of household affairs present, so there was little chance of running into any. Making my way through the gathering hall, past some lingering children, I pushed open the wooden door and headed out.

The sun shone brightly overhead as I walked down the stone steps, the destination, my father’s residence. It was located in the working district, with him being a smith. He had moved here shortly after mother had died, no longer needing to live in a large house. The establishment tripled as a smithy, a store and a home. I soon found myself before the store, pushing the wooden doors open before entering. There were numerous types of equipment on display. Swords, axes, hammers, and polearms made up most merchandise. Armour came in the form of chainmail or mail and plate armour that consisted of metal plates connected by chainmail.

There wasn’t anyone in the shop, so I moved to the back where the smithy was. The familiar clang of a hammer striking against metal could be heard as I neared the back door. Pushing it open and walking into the back part of the residence, a smithy could be seen. The forge roared as red hot tongues of flame occasionally lashed outwards while numerous tools and materials were strewn haphazardly all over the place. Father was hard at work shaping a block of metal into what looked like a sword, “Hello!!! Sorry I’m late, father!!!” I shouted over the sounds to be heard.

He wore a leather apron and gloves, his upper body bare showing his toned muscles from years of blacksmithing. He stopped hammering and turned towards me, removing his gloves, “You’re not late, son. Now come give your father a hug.”

Our relationship had developed well over the years. Our contact had not been constrained by the Illugis as much as expected, which allowed us to develop a regular father-son relationship. Of course, this did not mean I had formed any significant attachment or affection for the man. While he was my father, I had been me far before he became my father. So, while he was my father, he wasn’t at the same time, a strange paradox if I do say so myself. There was a bond between us, but while he may see it as one between father and son, I saw it as one between master and apprentice. He got a son while I got someone that taught me the craft of blacksmithing. It was a fair trade in my book.

After the hug, I set down my satchel on a nearby workbench and began preparing to take notes. Seeing that I was getting ready, father put on his gloves again and placed the red metal back into the forge, heating it back up to malleable temperature. “Father, I’m ready. What are we learning today?” I stated in a questioning tone.

“Haha, today I’m gonna start teaching you the basics of metal forging. As usual, since you’re too young to be doing anything physical, you will just have to observe me.” He removed the metal, which had become an orangey-yellow using tongs and began hammering away at it on the anvil. The rest of the afternoon rolled by with me observing while occasionally scribbling into my notebook whenever my father decided to explain something.

The setting sun cast an orange glow across the valley. A son and father were sat on a bench, taking in the peaceful atmosphere. The boy legs, which weren’t long enough to reach the ground, swayed back and forth as he flipped through the notebook in his hands as if it were a great treasure.

The father broke the silence, “Why are you so interested in learning how to blacksmith, son? Kids your age are meant to be out playing with their friends and having fun.”

The boy turned to his father with a thoughtful expression on his face, “It’s because I want to be strong. I don’t know if I can be a great warrior like mother was, but I at least want to be able to protect you and not be a disappointment.” His childlike face, combined with his serious expression, caused the father to chuckle.

“You really do have your mother’s heart. *sniff* Sǫl even if you don’t become a warrior like your mother, you won’t ever be a disappointment to me. I will always love you.” He silently sobbed while hugging his son. The boy’s serious expression faded into one of neutrality as his face pressed against the chest of his father.

Once the tender moment had passed, the son twisted his head upwards, “Father, I was wondering if I could get training from uncle Fjǫrnir. That way, even if I don’t become a warrior, I could still fight.” He murmured, uncertain of the response he would get.

The father wiped away whatever tears still lingered on his face, “Yes, that’s a good idea Sǫl, I’ll talk to him. He’s been bored ever since he retired and set up that carpentry workshop. He’ll be happy to train you.”

A smile formed on the boy’s face, “YES!!! Thank you father!!!” he exclaimed while fist-pumping.

The sun had nearly drifted past the horizon, light fading, replaced by the soft glows emanating from the residences. “Cmon Sǫl, it’s getting late. I’ll walk you home.” He reached out, the boy’s hand engulfed by his.

The father hummed a tune while grasping his son’s hand. Two individuals, one big and one small, walked in unison along a stone road. Their figures gradually faded into the night.

Moonlight sporadically seeped through the tree canopy, illuminating the forest floor. Amongst the dense undergrowth, nocturnal critters went about their business, the sounds they created mingling together to form a strange tune. The wind rushed past trees, rustling their leaves, adding another note to the forest symphony.

*Caw* *Caw* *Caw*

The forest’s calm was disrupted by a raven’s cawing. Only the flapping of its wings could be heard as it flew amidst the trees, its figure melting into the shadows. Wherever it passed, the activity of the forest seemed to fade away, as if it were an omen of death. The raven perched on a tree branch and silently waited. The vibrant sounds of the night could no longer be heard. The wind had come to a standstill as an eerie atmosphere fell upon the forest.

Soon the crunching of leaves and twigs could be heard amidst the silence, footsteps. A figure elegantly strolled through the wood, the undergrowth seemingly parting before them, as if unworthy to touch the being. They stopped before a tree and raised an arm, beckoning. Clouds obscuring the moonlight broke away, illuminating the figure.

Brown antlers with white tips grew from the figures head, long white hair fell messily while a portion covered their exposed breasts. Flowers, roots, and leaves entwined together to form a cape that draped down to the woman’s ankles. While a hood covered her head, the skull of a raven at the crown. She only wore a loincloth, her body bare, displaying her breathtaking form. Up to her forearms, skin was replaced by what looked like tree bark, intermittently small shoots sprouting green leaves grew on them.

The raven landed on her hand, and she stroked it lovingly with the other. She unfurled a piece of paper that was wrapped around the raven’s leg before it flew off into the night. Yellow feline-like eyes stared at the message’s contents before a broad smile formed on her face. “The prophesied one has appeared… no, no this isn’t enough to say for sure… but if they are…” her shoulders rose and fell before her head snapped upwards. “HAHAHAHAHAHA… BUT IF THEY ARE!!!” she roared. There was a crazed look on her face, her eyes holding deep madness as hysterical laughter echoed through the woods into the night.