The Valkyrie & The Viking

Chapter 2: Mortal Firsts

Chapter 2

Do you know where to find this man who can alter destinies?” she asked. After several hours of walking across countless mountains without a single word, she thought that she might break the silence.

“I’ve heard that he lives on the River Sylgr. From what I have heard, he believes the water holds the Spirit of Peace hidden within its depths and he hopes that his mere proximity to it will cleanse his soul.”

“You sure have a lot of knowledge of this man from simple tales.”

He laughed loudly, causing her to jump slightly at the sudden noise. “You would be surprised what men will sing after they have filled their liver with mead.”

Svipul was silent for a moment as she let her imagination run wild with thoughts of drunken Vikings gathered together in the Mead Hall. She could imagine that many of them would be a great source of entertainment among their more sober comrades. She hoped she would have a chance to experience such an occasion for herself someday.

“What is your name?” she suddenly asked, realizing that she had nothing by which to call her travel companion by other than “the berserker”.

“Domstoll, son of Agmundr. What is yours?”

“Svipul, Chooser of the Slain.”

“The men sing of you as well, then.”

She smiled, curious as to how they heard of her. She imagined one of her sisters whispering gossip to another and a mortal man hearing it in the wind, assuming that it was divine inspiration. That was how most of their “myths” were started. It often led to misinterpretations and conceptions; many of the gods and goddesses now thought of as evil by the humans were actually quite good, but a single mortal happened to catch the mutterings of a distraught enemy of that god and their reputation among men was forever ruined. She hoped that she held no such reputation.

“What do the men sing?”

To her surprise, he repeated the song himself.

Sjá es orpinn vefr 

ýta þörmum 

ok harðkléaðr 

höfðum manna; 

eru dreyrrekin 

dörr at sköptum 

járnvarðr yllir, 

en örum hrælaðr. 

Gengr Hildr vefa 

ok hjörþrimul, 

Sanngríðr, Svipul 

sverðum tognum; 

skapt mun gnesta 

skjöldr mun bresta, 

mun hjalmgagarr 

í hlíf koma.

 

            “It is beautiful…yet so terrible at the same time,” she said when he was finished. “So much bloodshed, so much violence.”

            He nodded. “Beauty and terror combined into one. That is how many things can be described in life. Beautifully terrible.”

            She smiled wistfully as she thought about what he just said. It seemed to perfectly represent her opinion of humans. So flawed, yet so valuable. Capable of such violence and monstrosity, yet also such things as compassion, kindness. Love. And their art…they created the most beautiful art in all the nine realms. Even their technological feats rivaled those of the dwarves. Beautiful, yet terrible creatures.