rebirth of the old

chapter 8: Is it Valhalla...or am i dreaming?

Ingrid had never conceived the idea of her death at the hands of another. Sure, maybe she had thought of it happening in the near future maybe when she was sick or when her life had naturally come to an end. The idea that life is as fragile as glass frightened her for years and she hoped that as Vikings there was some element of immortality that transformed them into blood-crazed and battle-crazed animals worthy of glory and worthy of honor. What made vikings so easy to conform to the constant trauma and pain of battles? losing loved ones? laying down the Fallen's axes and weapons preparing those lost souls for a supposed better life? Seems that even the strongest of beasts was susceptible to fracture and death which delved way beyond the thirst for blood loss and honor.... Valhalla may have been the answer but it a second death was ultimately foreshadowed when Ragnarök happened...and Odin would lead all these troubled souls to their second death. However, Ingrid stopped to think about the significance of a second death and whether it was truly peaceful and necessary. Valhalla may have been attracting to Ingrid as it was advertised as a haven for those traumatic souls to fight drink and feast! It seemed like a great routine and life for those Einherjar, but Ingrid was mesmerized by the ignorance of these Einherjar at the craving of continuing their life whilst being unable to come to terms with an inevitable second death at the hands of the Jotnar. Death was a powerful natural process, yet it presented the idea of being absent from both the mortal and godly worlds likening it to the bridge that separates Midgard (earth in norse mythology) and Asgard (the godly realm and king of Odin and his Aesir gods). The Bifrost was a symbol of the parallel that existed between mortality and immortality. it was a colorful bridge that shimmered with colors of the rainbow with each hue telling a story of those who crossed and walked the path between earth and heaven. It was a journey Ingrid considered honorable, yet she felt she didn't deserve such a fate. she couldn't envision herself setting foot on the masterwork of the gods and their humble abode which felt almost blasphemous. Though she truly believed that death and loss further encouraged many to lament about their life and decisions and she felt that the battles could not cure the despair or pain she had buried deep in her heart. Which birthed in her mind when she slept and stinged when she awoke which further implored her to fear her own power and potential in chasing an honorable death for the powers above. She was ultimately the one who carried the heavy sight of Harald piercing the sword into her father's heart while cackling like a daredevil dog... an axe chopping through her brother's chest causing blood to pour out of his mouth and her mother dying of wounds. They became a force for pain and forced endurance that caused her brain to tear piece by piece and her mental will to run out of willpower to go on and fight on... Those images were painted in her mind as a tool of encouragement and rage that turned her personal losses into a ferocious outlook on those she struck down and ended whilst despairing at the losses on the battles she volunteered for and often didn't win.

"Sqwelp" the sound the knife made as it travelled the air...Ingrid recalled a conversation she had with her father Eric. In the conversation, she was walking with him to the peak of valley overlooking Frostheim before the dark times. "Papa! What will happen when you die...will i be left alone?" exclaimed young INGRID. "Nothing will happen to my little girl. Your daddy will be alright....eh why are you worrying about this anyway my child?" Professed Eric. " THE boys were talking in the village about Valhalla... What is that papa?" asked Ingrid. "ahhhhh...My child, Valhalla is every Viking's dream. Tales speak of a mighty hall filled with Gold where the mighty All-father rules over those who fell in battle. Every day, these fallen warriors would be fed mutton and served mead given to them by the Valkyries who served Odin and brought those souls to the hall itself. And... in time they would march out of the glorious hall with Odin himself and die for a second time defending Asgard." explained Eric. "Sounds scary." exclaimed Ingrid. "Don't worry my child, i will defend you and frostheim for as long as i can. I promise that." proclaimed Eric. 

Returning back to reality. "Was this the end of my life?" questioned Ingrid softly under her breath. "Was this all it was? i have come to far to die...i have given up too much to lose this time!" thought Ingrid with a frown on her face.

In that brief moment, she turned around and saw an assassin of big build wearing a black ski mask of sorts carrying throwing knives and smoke bombs as well as poision darts as well as exhibiting a medium build. Ingrid dodged the attack and immediately challenged the assasin to a fight. " Hmmm...it seems you have some skills after all...Heathen!" exclaimed the assassin. "Go protect the rest, i will handle this." Shouted Ingrid "We won't leave you!" proclaimed the Ragnarssons. "You must! "I will be fine!" Screamed Ingrid.

With both combatants raising their weapons straight from the waist up to the forehead with emotionless looks on their faces. They clashed. Ingrid took the first strike which the assassin parried. Afterwards, the assassin utilized a few smoke bombs and Ingrid was confused... "HAHA....HAHA" the assassin laughed maniacally. "What do you want, assassin?" questioned Ingrid. "Just your head on silver platter ever since you escaped Frostheim. Did you really think King Harald didn't track you or at least kept tabs on your whereabouts?" the assassin responded. Ingrid fists started to loosen. Tears welled in her eyes as she slowly sank to her knees, despair overtaking her. As the smoke cleared, the assassin dropped from the ceiling of the Longhouse and stood straight staring at Ingrid on the ground. "As they say, 'Grief is the price we pay for love'." proclaimed the assassin. Ingrid clutched her sword and swiftly stood up and attempted to strike. The assassin continued to dodge before proceeding to knock Ingrid to the ground with a punch to the head. "Bang!" The assassin proceeded to choke her to the ground before pulling out a knife. "I am sorry young heathen, but I have a mission to fulfill. And besides I need my payment! I have always hated your family for killing my brother. I know before i took credit for chasing your family away from my home. And now I have lost everything my home my family my friends and you have as well. Thank you for being my source of income!!" the assassin said.  The assassin dragged a battle-torn Ingrid to the balcony of the longhouse and forcefully pulled her head up so that she could have one last look of the green pasture beyond the horizon. "May the valkyries summon me home so that I can feast with the All-Father and all the Einherjar." whispered Ingrid. Ingrid took a heavy breath and breathed a fleeting wave of cold air that danced in the sky. Likewise, the assassin tightened her fist around a family necklaced that was designed like a skull of a dog and was probably meant to resemble a hound fo sorts. 

The assassin carefully placed the knife on Ingrid's neck as if she was cutting something fine or ornate. "Goodbye Heathen!" exclaimed the assassin. "SPLAT!" The assassin escaped leaving Ingrid's motionless body and a dirty bloodied knife behind. Ivar and Ubba soon arrived and found her lifeless body on the ground. 

" We should bury her and send her to Valhalla with a proper funeral" whispered Ivarr. Ubba nodded in concurrence. Ivarr and Ubba placed her shield and sword on top of chest and carried her body to the funeral pyre. 

" Announcement! Please gather everyone! We are...sad to say that our dear friend and fellow shieldmaiden Ingrid has sadly passed away... We would like everyone to attend her funeral. And give your prayers." explained IVarr and Ubba. 

Every single soldier gathered a little piece of their own personal armor and laid it on her lifeless body. Cries spread throughout the fortress and voices of the ethereal were calling Ingrid to heaven. Smoke soared to the sky and flew as high as the tower of Babel.  From then on, Skalds wrote and sung the tales of Ingrid the brave. The one who fought on her own to protect the great Heathen Army from destruction and loss.  

In another universe, Ingrid woke up. She opened her eyes and found her body restored. But something wasn't right, she did a 360 and found clouds and voices from her past surrounding her. This must have been another realm. An afterlife of sorts thought Ingrid. It must be Valhalla!

Her dream was within reach...