Gods, many times, make themselves seen to those who are least suspecting. The Norse gods were no exception. Still awaiting the coming of Ragnarok, the panthenon of Scandinavian deities played games with the inhabitants of Midgard (the human world) for a long time. Odin was their king, but he, for the most part, left the mortals alone. Loki, however, was another story. He was the trickster god, and he tended to enjoy pulling pranks. Usually his pranks were harmless, however, once he caused the death of a god named Balder (yes, gods can die, be harmed, etc.), and for that, he was punished severely.
The Valkyries were the maidens of battle, those who took the souls of men and women who died fighting or violent deaths to Valhalla, the hall of the slain. There, the soldiers would battle endlessly during the day and be reborn in the night. They would then battle again, and again, and again, never tiring of the sport. The Valkyries attended to them there, as well, bringing them food and mead. Some Valkyries attended the gods, carrying their shields and weapons. Others merely wandered the world, flying from place to place. These were called "swan-maidens," for they wore swan-feather garments that allowed them flight.
Perhaps it is a tad ludicrous to imagine that a god, goddess, or godling would take time out of his busy schedule to pester mortals. However, it happened. Perhaps it did not happen frequently, but it happened nonetheless. Valkyries were especially frequent visitors to Midgard, if only for their duties as the ferrywomen of the slain to Asgard and Valhalla.
The blizzard has ended three days after Astrid told her story to Havelock and Denby. In that time, she taught the pair how to quilt, to knit, to embroider, and basic tidbits of how to cook. It turns out that neither truly thought of Kerr's profession as entirely womanly. Maybe just a little bit, but not entirely.
Freya decided that it would be wonderous to get herself entangled in yarn and string of all sorts at various times during the storm. After finally dislodging the cat from and the knots cleared out of the most recent bout of chaotic romping, Astrid peers out the window.
"You boys sick of the cabin?" she inquires, raising her eyebrows curiously.
"Aye," they reply, both knitting blue scarves.
"Good. I'm almost out of different stitches to teach you both." Astrid tips them a wink before pulling three pairs of snowshoes from a chest. "Strap these buggers on," she commands before bundling herself up and doing as she recommended. After a few minutes, the sewing supplies are put away and the three are bundled up. Astrid banks the fire before rising. "Ready? Thus we depart!" she cries, opening the door. "Or not." She glances, sighing, at the four feet of snow blocking their departures.
"Why don't we merely use the window?" Havelock inquires, pointing to the window that is thankfully a size through which Astrid and her belly can slip.
"Wonderous thinking, dear boy!" Astrid exclaims, helping the two boys pry the pane open. "There she goes!" She pulls the pane inside, allowing the two boys and Freya to slip out before following them. "It's a bit of a squeeze," she adds, sucking in her breath. She sets the window back in its place before allowing the boys to help her to her feet. "We go to the barn to check on the animals and then home with you both. Your families must be sick with worry over you!" she declares.
"Yes, miss Astrid," the pair choruses, following her and watching Freya as they go to the barn.
"That should do it. Grandfather, as I remember, used to hook this device up for when big snows came and caused white-outs," Astrid explains, taking joy from the contraption which she and the boys crafted to feed the chickens in case of another blizzard. It was also determined that the next day they came to the barn, they would help craft an escape hatch for Freya. She had been far too eager to roam during the snowstorm.
"It looks so awkward and fragile, as if the faintest breath would send it toppling," Denby sighs.
"Well it shan't," Astrid shoots back, her eyes narrowing.
"Hold, miss Astrid. I meant no ill will."
"I know, love," she replies, toussling his hair. Then, to make certain that she does not short-change Havelock, she messes his as well.
"That be it, then, eh?" Havelock queries, gravitating towards the pile of scarves, mittens, hats, and cloaks.
"Aye. We be off. Come, let us depart," Astrid replies, tossing her heavy outdoor garments upon her personage.
The four are almost to town when Astrid finally speaks up. "Sing that tune again, Havelock," she requests.
All during their stroll homeward, the blue-eyed boy had been singing quietly. He did so at such a volume for he feared that the others would bid him hush. Thus, when requested to sing again and louder, he blushes before nodding.
"Ere the mightiest oak doth fall,
Ere the battlers destroy this all,
Let us find joy in the harmony
That is deep ingrained in our memories.
"Ere the day turns into night,
Ere the darkness becomes too bright,
Let us embrace our kinsmen tight
And craft a firm-woven web of light.
"Ere it is much too late,
Ere the gods do meet their fates,
Let us love together find,
And let us tight together bind."
The song continues, as it was designed to be sung as a round. After hearing the words a few times, Denby and Astrid join in, the latter keeping a close watch on Freya. She does not want the cat to stray too far.
After about twenty or so goes at the song, the first signs of the village come into view. Something seems wrong, however. It seems far smokier than it should for this time of year, blizzard or no. Suddenly, as they come closer, the rusty hue on the horizon belies the terror going through the village. A fire has been set by something.
"Ma! Da!" Havelock cries, running headlong towards the town, stumbling often for his shoes.
"Havelock! Nay! Hold!" Astrid shouts, running after him. Denby grabs Freya and hurries along after the pair, trying his hardest not to break out into a run.
Panting, Astrid grabs a hold of the little boy. "Hold!" she commands, grabbing him by his shoulders and embracing him from behind. She rubs his arms and shoulders, trying to comfort him. The house that is burning is his own. The question is, how did he know such from such a distance away?
Weeping steadilly, Havelock shakes his head and vainly attempts to fight the woman's matriarchal touch. He wimpers until he finally collapses into her arms, exhausted. He sobs quietly, tears freezing on his eyelashes, the heat of his body escaping through his quivvering breath.
"Hold and calm, dear heart," Astrid says, picking him into her arms easilly. She has, after all, developed muscles from working on a farm for years. She rubs his back calmly before shooting a distressed look to Denby that says 'Go and find news of his family.'
Denby nods before departing, running about the streets and among the crowd as men dump snow from rooftops onto the burning building. He inquires of many, but few know the answers to his questions. After fifteen minutes or so, he returns.
Havelock is asleep, though not soundly. He is too exhausted by the time Denby returns. The lad is wrapped in Astrid's cloak and the woman is still muttering soothing words to him while carrying him.
"They're near," Denby states, tugging on Astrid's sweater.
"Wonderous. Where, perchance?" she inquires, smiling a little, though still looking a tad distraught.
"Here." Denby then leads the way to the baker's house on the other side of town. He pushes the door open (it did not snow as hard in town) and takes off his snow-shoes.
"Havelock!" the sleeping boy's mother cries. She takes him from Astrid and fusses over him, brushing his hair and muttering nonsensicals to him.
Astrid forces a weak smile. She is glad that the boy's family still lives, though she is sad that they lost their home. She wonders, vaguely, if they will have a place for the winter.
As if in answer to her questions, Havelock's father sighs. "Thank you very much, Astrid," he says, rising. "It's good to know our boy is still safe and sound, if only extremely distraught. The fire was started by sparks from the kindling and our hearth. Thankfully, Edda has a cousin in this baker's wife. We'll be wintering here." He nods before taking the second cloak from his young son. He wraps Havelock in his own. "Wouldn't do you any good to freeze on your way back home, would it?" he inquires rhetorically as he hands the heavy woolen cloak to the pregnant girl.
"Nay, sir, and thank you much. Denby, do you think you can navigate the streets to your house from here, or shall I escort you?" Astrid inquires.
"Miss Astrid, you've done enough. Here is Freya, by the way," Denby replies, handing the calico kitten to the young woman.
"Many thanks to you all. I pray fortune will smile upon you soon." She nods, giving them her feelings with her eyes, before exiting the shoppe.
"Truly 'twas a pity about their home, Freya, don't you agree?" Astrid inquires as she walks towards her home. She had been conversing with the kitten for some time, and they were almost to the cottage. Every other time she inquired, however, Freya would mew an answer. This time, she did not reply in kind.
"Freya?" Astrid calls, turning and blinking. Little paw prints are found in the snow as she retraces her steps to find where the cat left her side. It is not far from where she was, and Astrid follows the trail.
The trail of cat-prints leads far into the woods. They are strange woods to Astrid, and she feels suddenly fearful. She jumps as she hears the mewing of Freya nearby. With a sigh, Astrid locates the kitten, the latter of which is in no danger whatsoever. However, upon seeing the pregnant woman, the cat departs farther into the woods.
Astrid sighs, rolling her eyes, and mutters a brief prayer before setting off through the woods after the cat. Freya finally runs to Astrid as the latter finds the former at the lake that the girl loved so much as a child.
"Why have you brought me here, little one?" Astrid inquires, scratching Freya behind the ear and drawing forth a purr.
"She brought you here to find me," a feminine voice of much power says. Astrid jumps and turns. "I am Ingegerd," the woman before her states. She has blondish-brown hair and eyes the shade of the snow, bluish-white. She is adorned with taut muscles and fully armored. Her mantle is of white feathers, and she floats a little off the ground.
Astrid merely blinks. In response to the woman, Freya mews and purrs. Astrid blinks again, not knowing what to do.
"I have been sent upon a quest of rather strange requests," Ingegerd states, twitching her mouth into an almost-smile. Getting no response, she continues. "I was sent by Lord Odin to locate those of the most wonderous honor, bravery, strength, and will and bring them to Valhalla. Unfortunately, you were among those I had found. Odin also instructed me to find one worthy enough to care for a special breed of dragon eggs."
"D-dragons?" Astrid stutters in repetition. The first image that pops into her mind is that of the Midgard Serpent, a dragon so long it encircles the globe. She swallows, her forehead furrowed.
"Yes, dragons, but not at all like those which I am certain you are imagining. These dragons are kindly and good. They take special care to raise and are given only to those of kind hearts and steady hands."
"I ... I don't know."
Ingegerd smiles entirely this time, making her face look far more kind than it had initially. "Bishens are nothing like the dragons of lore. They are naught similar to those that Beowulf, Sigurd, Sigmund, and the other heros slew. They have hearts as wonderously large as your own, Astrid. Think of it." She raises her eyebrows and cocks her head to the side. By doing this, she looks far more like a friend than she had when she came into view.
"Why me?"
"Haven't I already explained that? Poor fearful mortals. You are always so dense when frightened. You have a heart and spirit and mind of many of the slain in Valhalla, but I haven't the heart to allow you to die. Twice, now, you have avoided death by fire. Twice, it has made you stronger. We need strong souls on our side come Ragnarok, despite the loss of many of the gods. By keeping you alive and letting you care for a creature such as a Bishen, you can continue to grow. Perhaps, on a very off possibility, we may be able to turn the prophecies to our favor."
"Probably not," Astrid remarked as she turned to go.
"No, probably not, but if you go and do not try, I shall slay you now. None shall find you, but they will most like know what happened to you as they will not see the wound which my spear will instill upon your body. Stay and live, or leave and die." Ingegerd's face suddenly darkened and she held her partisan at an offensive position, ready to run the pregnant girl through with it if need be.
Astrid half-turned back to Ingegerd. She suddenly realized that the woman was lifted off the ground. "A Valkyrie?" she asked stupidly.
"Yes, girl, a Valkyrie. I mean what I say, now turn and face me!" Ingegerd's icy eyes blazed with an internal fire.
Astrid quickly turned to face the woman. The spearhead was aimed straight at her heart. She drew in a shuddering breath and defiantly stared down the woman. "So be it," she said, her eyes flicking from the partisan to the woman and back.
Ingegerd chuckled in amusement. "You are stupid, but brave. Tyr would have my head if I were to kill one such as you. Piteous thing you were not born a man. You would have made a wonderous husband, perhaps another hero. Women are never considered heros, though. Doubly piteous. You are to be the caretaker of this egg whether you desire to be or not. If you abandon it, I shall have to exact some sort of terrible vengence upon you." She smiled fiercely before sticking the wooden half of her pike sandwiched between her arm and her body. She then waved her hands, and after a sprinkling of snowflakes, a rather large egg appeared. It was easilly the size of Freya, and it was the hue of water and sky. "Care for it well. You should be able to find your home from here." She blinked for the first time during the conversation. "Fare thee well, mortal. Live long and happy." She then thrust the egg upon Astrid, took her spear in hand, and flew up into the air, granted lift from her swan-feather mantle.
"Strange happening that," Astrid remarks. Freya mews in agreement and leaps from her arms. She follows the girl's heels home and allows her to struggle back through the window with the egg and her belly.
Background by Ender Design.