Tales of the Slain: 4-Aett

The old man, in his wide brimmed hat, took up the horn and took a sip from it before smiling and winking with his one good eye at the women who sat across from him. 

They sat in no meadhall, but in a large clearing surrounded by a dense and deep snowy forest.

"So Wanderer, what does the brew of Kvasir make your lips want to say this evening.."
"Ah, perhaps the tale of how i sacrificed myself to myself and gained the knowledge of the runes.."
"Pfft.. everyone knows that tale" came a wry laugh from the forest.
"Then what of you oh Scarred of Lips.. would you drink from the Kvashorn with your bloodbrother and the Lady.." Wanderer called out to where the voice had come. He knew already that the speaker had moved but could not tell where to until the hand touched his shoulder from behind.
"I would never be so uncouth as to deny the Lady nor my bloodbrother the gift of my company.." and the man reached forth to take the drinking horn.

The firelight caught his features. True to Wanderers naming of him his lips were scarred, they had at one point been stitched shut and at another time poison had dripped on to him burning his skin in the process.

"Should i tell you of how i convinced the giant to build a great and mighty wall for free?" he laughed as he took a swig from the horn.

It was the Lady's turn to smile.
"Wanderer, how is that horse of yours.." she said as she reached for the drinking horn, Scarred of Lips grimaced and relinquished the horn.

"Perhaps Wanderer and Scarred of Lips i should tell you of the time i learned what you each know long before you were ever gifted with the ways of the Galdr"

And in the forest clearing, as the snows fell around the three who shared the Kvashorn, each wove a tale of the runes they knew, of the tricks and deceptions they had caused, of the healing and the lessons they had passed on to others.

And of the cost of knowing such things.

For all things have a price and none knew this better than Odin, Loki and Sigyn.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Tales of the Slain: 6-Vigdis

V igdis came to a stop when she could see the river along the track way.  Nine nights ago she had died and began her walk to where she knew she must go. Helheim. The thought of it did not please her. She had died twice before. Her Blasa, her first death, was when she had stopped being a dweller of Midgard and stopped drawing breath. She had met Modgudr that time and knew that she would meet her again very soon. Modgudr, the Watcher who waited at the gates to the realm where Hel keeps those who died what some saw as ignoble deaths. Vigdis was lucky, for with Modgudr that day was another woman, one who would take her to a fair field, where people laughed and where there was joy and merriment and feasting. Folkvangr. But Vigdis was never satisfied with just relaxing, she needed to feel alive, even after dying. She had found her way to Kvasheim and the thousand meadhalls. There she had met others and they traded stories and gone on adventures and she had died her second death...
Read more

Tales of the Slain: 2-Kenna

  The winds rattled the wooden shutters on the hut.  “My son shall need to tan new hides to keep the draught out if he if to marry again and would live here” Kenna thought to herself as she put the bone needle through the cloth, drawing the fine golden thread through with each careful stab of the needle and creating a pattern more beautiful than others had ever seen her make in the last twenty years. As the wind blew once again, this time more forceful, the wooden latch on the door snapped and the door blew inwards bringing with it a lash of rain. “My daughter will need to fix that come the new moon when the rains will begin in earnest as they always do at this time of year” Kenna sighed to herself as she finished her sewing and put down what she had made carefully. She took the remaining golden yarn, barely an arms length, and tossed it on the fire along with the bone needle. She had judged it well. She had been sewing for over two hundred years so she knew how much to k...
Read more

Tales of the Slain: 1-Agni

  Agni stumbled and fell to his knees. The hard ground tore at his already damaged breeches and shards of ice and rock cut deeply in to his knees. “Where..” he managed to mumble before some one struck him from behind. The axe bit deep into his rib cage but he couldn't feel it. All he could feel was the cold, his hands numbed from fighting all day and his sword fell from his grasp. He reached out as a blast of snow obscured his vision causing him to see nothing but swirls of white. And as the axe fell again he saw red. Blood, his blood. And then he saw nothing.   When he woke up later that day Agni looked around, he was sat at a great table in a great hall, hundreds of men and women sat there, horns filled with frothy ale or heady mead. Some one struck him on the back, as hard as the axe that killed him and he looked round sharply, a snarl on his lips. “HA! I got you again Agni, three days running now I have killed you. You are lucky you are one of the Einherj...
Read more