06-01-2017, 07:10 PM
Deep in the forest, the two exhausted men sat around a campfire. It was unlikely that the river troll would follow them this far from the water, but they were still too on edge to relax. Neither of them had spoken a word since their retreat.
"I was promised eternal rest after Ragnorak," said Geir. His tone was flat. One could have mistaken his words for a simple statement. There was nothing simple about what he had said, however, and the only response her got was the crackling of the fire and occasional hoot of an owl. Neither man looked to the other.
"Leave us," commanded a husky, feminine voice. The silhouette of a woman formed between two trees and approached the fire. She was nearly as tall as Odin, and her long, blonde hair was tied back in braids. She wore a steel breastplate that sparkled in the firelight, and a cloak of feathers hung from her shoulders. The beauty of the blade at her hip had not been diminished despite its use in a millennia of war. In that way, it was like its owner.
The two men's eyes went wide, and they stood up awkwardly.
"Freya," muttered Odin.
"Yes, My Lady," stuttered Geir as he retreated to give them privacy.
Freya nodded to her husband and took a seat on the log that Geir had vacated. In a daze, Odin sat back down. "What are you doing here?" he asked, eyes searching her face for any hint of deception or trickery.
She leaned back and looked up, through the branches, to the stars. A minute passed before she responded. "They're different here."
"So are we," he sighed without looking away from her.
"Aye," she agreed simply. He stood and moved to sit next to her, but she raised a hand and turned toward him. "Ours was a marriage of convenience. There are no separate tribes to bring together. No territory to divide. It died when we did."
He frowned but didn't protest. Their marriage had never been more than another illusion. It hadn't even been a particularly good one. It only worked because everyone knew it was a lie and benefitted from pretending it was true. Odin returned to his seat. "How did you find me?"
"Chance. I have been hunting the troll," she replied. Then after a second of hesitation, she added, "I saw your encounter with it."
"You wanted to see if I was as diminished as you." It's what he would have done. They had always been more alike than either wanted to admit.
"Aye," she confirmed. Answering both why she hadn't interfered and that she had reached the same conclusion as him. "Together though..."
Odin nodded. Yes, together they could kill the beast. Together they could accomplish much more as well. But it would limit them too. They would fall into old roles, old ways of doing things. Just like the stars, this world was a different place. Forcing old stories would be another lie, another illusion. Only this time it wouldn't be one that was communally told. It would be one they were telling themselves. "Just the once then, for old times sake," he grinned as he stood and took a step toward her.
She mirrored him and looked up through her eyelashes. "For old times sake," she confirmed.
Oblivion. That is what had been promised to the Einherjar in return for their service. Geir had waged bloody war for over 300 years in Odin's hall. Killing and drinking. Everything a Norseman could ever want. Valhalla was exactly what was promised. And yet, it was so much less. There was a reason that mead was served from casks that never emptied. First came the despair from watching your friends die every day. Then the deep sadness of never touching your wife again or seeing your children's smile. The despair of never feeling the touch of another human unless they were choking the life from you. The truth was that the Einherjar were the hordes of hell.
The glory of Valhalla was a lie. Every warrior there knew it. No one dared speak the truth, however. It was too painful. They had sold their souls to gods that cared nothing for them. They were suffering in preparation for a war they were destined to lose. They were surrounded by their fathers and sons, already damned to the same fate as them. The only hope that was left them as the peaceful rest of the void.
Now, even that had been denied to him.
When morning came, it found the two gods on the ground asleep. His cloak spread beneath them; hers keeping away the crisp morning air. The fire burned low. Gier had never returned to add more wood.
Hilde. That was the name of Geir's wife. The wife that Odin had stripped from him. The All-Father knew all their names, all their stories. He had known of their suffering. He had known that it was probably going to be for naught. He knew that even now, as he lay in the arms of a woman that he didn't love, Geir could no longer remember the face of the one he did.
If his gamble had worked, he could have justified it. If it didn't, he wouldn't have to face himself. Yet here he was.
"I was promised eternal rest after Ragnorak," said Geir. His tone was flat. One could have mistaken his words for a simple statement. There was nothing simple about what he had said, however, and the only response her got was the crackling of the fire and occasional hoot of an owl. Neither man looked to the other.
"Leave us," commanded a husky, feminine voice. The silhouette of a woman formed between two trees and approached the fire. She was nearly as tall as Odin, and her long, blonde hair was tied back in braids. She wore a steel breastplate that sparkled in the firelight, and a cloak of feathers hung from her shoulders. The beauty of the blade at her hip had not been diminished despite its use in a millennia of war. In that way, it was like its owner.
The two men's eyes went wide, and they stood up awkwardly.
"Freya," muttered Odin.
"Yes, My Lady," stuttered Geir as he retreated to give them privacy.
Freya nodded to her husband and took a seat on the log that Geir had vacated. In a daze, Odin sat back down. "What are you doing here?" he asked, eyes searching her face for any hint of deception or trickery.
She leaned back and looked up, through the branches, to the stars. A minute passed before she responded. "They're different here."
"So are we," he sighed without looking away from her.
"Aye," she agreed simply. He stood and moved to sit next to her, but she raised a hand and turned toward him. "Ours was a marriage of convenience. There are no separate tribes to bring together. No territory to divide. It died when we did."
He frowned but didn't protest. Their marriage had never been more than another illusion. It hadn't even been a particularly good one. It only worked because everyone knew it was a lie and benefitted from pretending it was true. Odin returned to his seat. "How did you find me?"
"Chance. I have been hunting the troll," she replied. Then after a second of hesitation, she added, "I saw your encounter with it."
"You wanted to see if I was as diminished as you." It's what he would have done. They had always been more alike than either wanted to admit.
"Aye," she confirmed. Answering both why she hadn't interfered and that she had reached the same conclusion as him. "Together though..."
Odin nodded. Yes, together they could kill the beast. Together they could accomplish much more as well. But it would limit them too. They would fall into old roles, old ways of doing things. Just like the stars, this world was a different place. Forcing old stories would be another lie, another illusion. Only this time it wouldn't be one that was communally told. It would be one they were telling themselves. "Just the once then, for old times sake," he grinned as he stood and took a step toward her.
She mirrored him and looked up through her eyelashes. "For old times sake," she confirmed.
Oblivion. That is what had been promised to the Einherjar in return for their service. Geir had waged bloody war for over 300 years in Odin's hall. Killing and drinking. Everything a Norseman could ever want. Valhalla was exactly what was promised. And yet, it was so much less. There was a reason that mead was served from casks that never emptied. First came the despair from watching your friends die every day. Then the deep sadness of never touching your wife again or seeing your children's smile. The despair of never feeling the touch of another human unless they were choking the life from you. The truth was that the Einherjar were the hordes of hell.
The glory of Valhalla was a lie. Every warrior there knew it. No one dared speak the truth, however. It was too painful. They had sold their souls to gods that cared nothing for them. They were suffering in preparation for a war they were destined to lose. They were surrounded by their fathers and sons, already damned to the same fate as them. The only hope that was left them as the peaceful rest of the void.
Now, even that had been denied to him.
When morning came, it found the two gods on the ground asleep. His cloak spread beneath them; hers keeping away the crisp morning air. The fire burned low. Gier had never returned to add more wood.
Hilde. That was the name of Geir's wife. The wife that Odin had stripped from him. The All-Father knew all their names, all their stories. He had known of their suffering. He had known that it was probably going to be for naught. He knew that even now, as he lay in the arms of a woman that he didn't love, Geir could no longer remember the face of the one he did.
If his gamble had worked, he could have justified it. If it didn't, he wouldn't have to face himself. Yet here he was.