The Origin of Fear

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

        Training was brutal. That was the first thought that entered Fera's mind as she regained consciousness, before she even had the chance to raise her eyelids. Every nerve in her body screamed in agony, a common consequence of the merciless Aesir combat that Sif and the Warriors Three were more than happy to instruct her in. Her entire left arm felt as if it had been shattered into a million pieces, and she could already feel lumps and bruises forming on her abdomen as a result of Lady Sif’s well-placed blows; though the Valkyrie was not as large as Thor or any of the Warriors Three, she was deadly.

         "Fera," a voice floated from just above her closed eyelids. She felt a smack on her shoulder and flinched as her hearing was the first to recover from unconsciousness. "Fera, wake up," she opened her eyes to see the triumphant form of Lady Sif standing over her, her hands on her knees and her gloating face a foot from hers.

        "She survives!" Volstagg said heartily from behind her, clapping Fandral on the back beside him.

        "Ah, yes, our Elven guest has lived through yet another muscle melee!" Fandral replied with a laugh, his hand clasping the hilt of his sword jovially. “You know Fera, it may do you well to remember that you’re not supposed to drop your knives when you’re in a duel,”

        “Sorry,” Fera groaned, sitting up and pulling off her thick and stuffy helmet. Her damp, dark hair fell over her shoulders as she breathed in the clean air. “I’m sure I just need more practice,” 

        “Obviously,” Hogunn said, his stern eyes falling on her. “I’ve seen children who fight better than you,” 

        “Oh, give her a break,” Sif rolled her eyes at the men. “The Elves are a dainty folk, you know that,” 

           Fera opened her mouth to respond , but decided against it, instead shrugging her sore shoulders. “Swordsmanship is definitely not my strength,” she said. “As I’ve told you all hundreds of times,” she added lowly. 

        “Well then, Light Elf,” Volstagg started. He leaned against his axe, which was propped against the floor, and looked at her with an amused and patronizing expression on his face. “What are your strengths, pray tell?” 

        Fera paused. It was true that she was unable to wield a sword. She couldn’t fight with steel or iron, but instead possessed an ability that would render the Asgardian’s own skills useless—an ability that she had kept secret from them, and hoped it would remain that way. But how easy it would be to show them. If she wanted to, they would be cowering at her feet in an instant. But she didn’t want that. She shook the terrible thought out of her head. “I, uh...I don’t really have any,” Fera said, rubbing the back of her neck. Fandral laughed.

        “Nonsense! I remember you told us about your strange gift when you arrived in Asgard,” Fandral nodded. He turned to Volstagg. “What did she say, again?” 

        “She told the Allfather, but I can’t remember what it was she said,” Volstagg corrected. When Fera looked at him, confused, he shrugged. “The Allfather told Thor, and Thor told us. Naturally,” 

        “He tells us everything,” Fandral said proudly. “Can you show us what you can do, Fera? I’m sure you’re rather tired of losing so horribly time after time,” 

        “It’s not much a gift, most people can hardly feel the effects. I’m sure the Allfather was less than impressed,” Fera said lightly, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor. Sif frowned to the others; Fera never looked at anyone, always bashful and nervous and keeping her gaze fixed on anything but them. “Besides, I enjoy learning about these weapons,”