Blog Posts

' Týr : The God Of War ' : Chapter 8 : " Murder Is Not War ! "

1/24/2019

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 8

" Murder Is Not War ! "

Týr stopped and stared up from the cosmic bridge in awe ! Millions of points of lights lit up the dark heavens as they passed over the conduit to the nine worlds, on their way to Asgard. The Rock Jotun had never seen anything as beautiful as the rainbow colored bridge that Odin called Bifrost. As he marveled in wonder at the bridge that burned, but did not destroy itself, the pent up anger within him made him think for a moment how easy it would be to kill the Asgardian who walked in front of him. Just as this evil thought brought a grin to his face, the one called Odin turned and spoke to him in a harsh tone.

" Murder is not war ! " he explained to his son.

Obviously rattled by the stern comment Týr nervously shrugged his shoulders at the old man.

" Why would you say this to me ? " he asked.

Odin brought his face almost up against the Rock Jotun's nose as he explained.

" War is respectable, honorable, and glorified by the skalds ! Murder is selfish, reprehensible, and above all shameful ! Only when you learn these lessons will you be accepted into our Asgardian world as one of us ! " he said angrily to Týr.

Týr felt a shiver run up his spine when he realized that Odin somehow knew what he was thinking.

" I believe that the strongest should always hold dominion over those who are weak. " Týr responded somewhat timidly.

Odin shook his head in disgust.

" Then you are truly a young fool ! " he replied sternly.

The Lord of Asgard quickly calmed himself before adding :

" There is no honor in dishonoring others. If a being attacks you, kill them. But if a being means you no harm, then treat him with kindness. If a kingdom threatens you, destroy it, but if a kingdom offers friendship make them your ally. " he replied as though he were a teacher, and Týr was his student.

Týr nodded.

" Your words are wise Odin, but a fire burns within my breast that makes me want to destroy anything and anyone that gets in my way. " he told the old Asgardian with a strong sense of pride.

Odin smiled.

" Fire can destroy, or it can light your way through the darkest night. You must decide which purpose you will use your burning desire for. " Odin explained.

A part of Týr wanted to mock Odin for the ridiculous ways of these Asgardians, while another part of him wanted to embrace each of his thoughts as if they were a religious creed worth basing his life upon. He was about to ask another question when he was interrupted by a voice that called out from the distance.

" Hark ! Who approaches the golden gates of Asgard ! ? " it asked

Odin turned away from Týr and yelled back.

" Friend Heimdall ! Tis me, your old friend Odin ! "

The voice then commanded.

" Come forward and be welcomed into Asgard ! "

When they reached the golden gates Odin introduced the White God to Týr. The Rock Giant looked at the stoic guardian of Asgard and grinned.

" How can one being guard an entire realm ? " he asked both Odin and Heimdall.

While Heimdall stood quietly by Odin's side, the Lord of Asgard answered the question.

" If that solitary sentinel is Heimdall you need no more ! He can hear someone approaching from distances that others cannot begin to fathom. And if he detects any type of danger threatening Asgard he will blow his mighty Gjallarhorn and warn everyone in the Golden Realm. And together we will stand shoulder to shoulder in defense of Asgard ! " he explained.

Týr suddenly felt that deep burning feeling in his chest again. This time it seemed somehow different, as if it was now fueled not by anger, or greed, but by a great sense of pride.

" If you blow your mighty horn Heimdall I will stand with you ! " The young Rock Jotun blurted out.

Heimdall nodded his approval and patted Týr on the shoulder.

" I would be honored ! " Heimdall replied.

Odin smiled.

" As would I ! " he said proudly.

Odin then turned back to Heimdall and clasped his hand.

" We must be on our way now, old friend. " he told the great sentinel.

Heimdall nodded.

" Go in peace, great one. " he responded.

Týr could not believe what he was seeing as they walked through Asgard. White capped mountains rose high above green valleys of thick forests, and meadows filled with brightly colored flowers. Stone paths, lined with the finest marble he had ever seen, led them to great halls constructed of gold and silver. And when they finally reached Odin's great hall the Rock Jotun was absolutely stunned by its grandeur.

As the pure gold doors of Valhalla opened Týr's eyes began to water, not from a sense of weakness, but because it was all too much for the young Rock Jotun to take in all at once. This place,...., this wonderful place called Asgard was so much different from the Rock Giant's kingdom. Where there was only grey and white in Jotunheim, here in this golden realm there was great beauty, and friendship,...., and maybe, just maybe, a chance for a new life. As Syn escorted Odin and his guest through the hall thousands upon thousands of Einherjar stood and saluted their Lord and Master. And for the first time Týr saw that you could receive respect, not only through the use of threats and violence, but with wisdom and honor !

- End Chapter 8

- Next : Chapter 9 : A Change Of Heart And Mind

- Glenn Bergen, ( Ravensheart ), © Copyright, 2019.

' Týr : The God Of War : Chapter 7 : A Home Away From Home

1/24/2019

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 7

A Home Away From Home

As he approached his target Týr thought it strange that the old stranger was standing by the fire instead of sitting on the tree which had fallen within feet of it. He moved forward slowly, much like a predator that stalks its prey, watching him closely as he cooked a juicy piece of meat, that was skewered onto a long stick, over the flames. The old one rolled the skewer over and over with one hand while he held on tightly to a walking staff with the other. As he crept ever closer a grin turned up the corners of his mouth from ear to ear.

" You should have sat down old man, for you would have had a shorter distance to fall ! " he thought to himself.

With his right hand holding Dauði over his head, Týr decided that he would make the stranger's death quick and painless. He spun his weapon to the sharpened axe end and extended his arm higher to deliver the final blow. Týr directed his attention to the back of the stranger's neck as he thrust Dauði to the point of where the decapitation would be centered. Then, In the blink of an eye, and before Týr could react, the old one thrust his staff backwards.

The axe-hammer hit the top of the staff with a strange metallic, 'clang', that startled Týr more than the fact the old one had been able to deflect his blow. In that brief moment of indecision the stranger, who hardly moved at all, lifted the bottom of his staff off the ground, and thrust it upwards catching him directly in the groin.

Týr tried to hang on to his weapon, despite the intense agony, but he involuntarily released it to grab hold of the injured area, before toppling over onto the ground. And there he lay for a long while, curled up in the fetal position, rolling first to the right, and then to the left. As most male beings know, however, only time can relieve the pain of being hit in the groin, and Týr had to wait for the agony to slowly dissipate.

Finally, through watering eyes, Týr looked up at the old one, who stood hovering over him with a contemptuous look upon his face.

" You,...., bastard ! When I get up,...., I am going to,.... kill you ! " he managed despite not being able to take full breaths.

The old man pulled back his hood and without emotion spoke to him.

" You can try. " he replied calmly.

Týr watched as the old man slowly walked to the other side of the fire and nonchalantly began to cook the meat again that he had been incredibly able to hold onto despite the attacks. He thought the stranger an odd looking figure. He was too large to be a human, but too small to be of Jotun stock. A dark patch covered one eye, while the other seemed to see more than if he had the use of both. His beard was long, but neat and clean, and was braided on the edges. The old man's calm demeanor, however, only served to infuriate him further, and as soon as Týr was able to he forced himself up onto his knees, and reached over and picked up his weapon.

" Alright, it is time for you to die, you old buzzard ! " he shouted as he stumbled to his feet.

Týr hobbled over to the fire and raised his weapon menacingly at the old man. The stranger watched him closely, but did nothing to protect himself, and showed no fear despite being threatened. In the past he could always tell what an opponent would do by reading the fear in his eyes, or the anger that formed an expression upon his face. But this old man, or whatever he was, stood like a statue, and appeared not to be moved at all by his threatening posture.

With a sudden rush of fury he attacked the stranger again ! With all his strength he swung his axe in a wide arc meant to decapitate the old man. However, instead of cleanly cutting through flesh and bone, he felt only a hard unyielding force that stopped his weapon in mid-flight, and which reverberated in the form of a sharp pain through his arm and up into his shoulder. As he grabbed hold of his aching forearm he stared at the stranger with a look of shock on his face. For a long moment he seemed uncertain exactly what to do next.

After composing himself Týr once again felt the anger grow within him like a volcano ready to erupt. This time, before he renewed his attack, he turned Dauði around with the intention of breaking the stranger's walking stick. The young Jotun grinned as he aimed his weapon at the vulnerable mid-section of the staff. Once again, however, his mighty weapon was met with only a sharp ' clang ' instead of the expected sound of cracking wood.

This time the old man struck back. He placed the long end of the cooking stick into the ground, and began to spin his stick around like a water wheel, which placed the youth into somewhat of a trance. And when the Jotun seemed helpless the old man thrust his staff into the face of the agitated Jotun, knocking him to the ground. As he looked down at the stunned Rock Giant, the stranger spun the staff around again until the butt of the staff dug itself firmly into the ground at his side.

" If you will put your weapon away I will share my meal with you. " he told the youth as calmly as if nothing had happened.

Týr, for the first time in his life, felt helpless. He was trembling, much like a child who had been punished by his father, and he was baffled over what he should do next. At first he held up his weapon as though he might try once again to smite the old man, but the pain in his groin, arm, and now his face, made him think carefully about what his next move should be.

" What is your name old man ? " he asked.

The stranger, who had gone back to the fire to cook his meat, stared at him for a moment before answering.

" I am called Odin. " he replied calmly.

Týr frowned as though the name should have some meaning. But he could not recall hearing of a warrior who went by that name. After taking a deep breath he placed his weapon back into his belt, and nodded.

" My name is Týr,...., and I believe I will accept your generous offer. " he replied trying not to show his growing trepidation.

Odin pointed his staff at the fallen tree.

" Then let us sit and eat, for the meat is cooked. " he told Týr.

Odin sat down first. He pulled a knife out of his belt and cut the meat in half while it was still on the stick. He then reached out and handed the bruised and battered youth one half of the stick. Týr nodded, and took the skewer from the old man named Odin. After taking several bites of the succulent meat the Jotun's curiosity began to rise, and after a few moments he gained the courage to ask the old man a question.

" Why is an old one such as yourself wandering around here in the land of the Woodland Jotuns ? " he asked before ripping off a huge chunk of meat with his teeth.

Odin took a small bite of the still sizzling meat, chewed it well, and swallowed it before responding.

" I have come to Jotunheim to save someone. " he finally told the Jotun.

Týr frowned.

" Who ? " he asked.

Odin's eye seemed to widen as he answered.

" You ! " he replied.

Odin held out his skewer to the Jotun youth.

" Will you hold this for me ? " he asked.

Týr took the stick from the old one, and was about to ask why, when suddenly a dozen Rock Jotuns came crashing through the woods towards them. The young Jotun watched in stunned silence as Odin pounded his staff into the ground three times. Within a tremendous burst of light the walking stick turned into a great three bladed spear. The old man, who had barely moved when defending himself against him, quickly rose up, jumped over the log, and attacked the Jotuns.

Týr dropped the meat, but before he could remove Dauði from his belt to aid the old man, Odin had already thrown himself at the attackers. Týr watched as Odin skillfully disemboweled one Jotun with his spear, and then spun his weapon around and decapitated another. Before the Jotun's head hit the ground this, "old man", had killed five more of his kinsmen, and chased the others off !

Once again Týr felt like a little child being taught a lesson by his father. The young Jotun was astonished by the incredible fighting prowess of a man who was at least three times his age. He could not understand how anyone could react so quickly to a threat as Odin had just demonstrated.

Týr nodded his head, and thought to himself :

" I could learn much from this,..., being. "

As Odin returned to the fire Týr greeted him with a sheepish grin.

" Where did you learn such skills ? ! " he asked.

Odin ignored the question.

" The Rock Giants will soon return, and since it appears that you have ruined our meal, I think it is best that we leave. " he told the young Jotun as he stared down at the meat that now lay upon the ground.

Týr nodded that he agreed.

" I have been trying to find a place to hide from those who wish to do me harm, but without any luck. " he explained to Odin.

The Lord of Asgard shook his head.

" There is no place here in Jotunheim that is safe for you ! " Odin replied.

Týr shrugged his shoulders.

" Then what will I do ? Where can I go ? " he asked.

Odin smiled.

" You will come home with me to Asgard. My realm of gold and plenty will now be your home away home ! " he explained.

- End Chapter 7

- Next : Chapter 8 : " Murder Is Not War ! "

- Glenn Bergen, ( Ravensheart ), © Copyright, 2019.

' Týr : The God Of War ! ' : Chapter 6 : Exiled !

1/23/2019

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 6

Exiled !

Hymir could not have been prouder of his son. Every Giant who survived the great battle, and returned to the Rock Jotuns' land, had new respect for Týr and his great skills as a warrior. Hymir, however, wanted not only those who had fought alongside him against the Frost Giants to know of his son's glory, but also those who had not engaged the enemy to hear of Týr 's amazing exploits on the battle field.

" You should have seen the immense courage, and great skills as a fighter my son demonstrated against the Frost Giants ! None who stood before him walked off the battlefield, and in his wake he left nothing but carnage and misery ! " he bragged to everyone and anyone who would listen.

Týr's father was only partially right. The young tenacious warrior had tilted the balance of the battle in their favor, but he had not killed everyone who had confronted him upon that now hallowed ground. For Farbauti had stood up to Týr and fought him to a draw, though he too did not actually walk off of the battlefield,...., he limped.

Hvítrbrún was the first to see that Hymir's praise was making her son headstrong, and extremely hard to handle. She persistently asked Hymir not to fill Týr's head with false visions of grandeur. Occasionally he acquiesced to her wishes, and did not place his son above all others, but most of the time he ignored her warnings. Brunniþoka, who was equally as proud of her son's glory, constantly scolded Hvítrbrún for berating her husband, and for trying to hold back Týr from what she considered to be his true glory.

" My boy will one day rule the Rock Giants no matter how hard you try to deny him his right to rule over others ! " she told Hvítrbrún when she tired of her nagging.

Hvítrbrún, outnumbered, and fearful that her lover's constant praise might push her son over the edge, refused to back down.

" You want him to fight,...., you need him to win,..., and you live for his glory, but do you truly love and care about Týr ! ? " she asked angrily.

This sentimental nonsense made Brunniþoka laugh.

" He loves to do battle, and he needs to feel the thrill of the kill ! Strength is Týr's weapon, glory his shield, and victory,..., well,...., that is his reason to live ! " she shouted back at their husband's pale mistress.

Night after night the two females battled verbally over what was right for Týr. Echoes of their screaming reverberated through the mountains, making each Jotun in their realm fully aware that all was not well in Hymir's household.

The constant bickering only served to further Týr's anger and instability. Soon it was no longer enough for the young warrior to pick a fight with Rock Giants who were bigger than him, he now had to injure them, sometimes gravely, to prove that he was not only stronger, but also superior to them in every way. And when several of the Giants banded together to protect themselves from his fury Týr made them pay for their unity with their lives.

Hymir, his wife, and his mistress, protected Týr for as long as they could. When a distraught father came to their mountain home, carrying the lifeless body of their son, they made up lies, telling the father that their son could not possibly have done such a thing because he had gone south to visit friends and was not at home. Each distraught mother who came with tears flowing down their cheeks over the loss of a husband, brother, or son, was chased off of Snaerfjall with a quick blast of Brunniþoka's flames, and told never to come back. But no lie, no matter how well told, could hide the truth about what their son was doing, or what kind of monster he had become.

Then, one night Týr strolled into their mountain home carrying a bloody sack. After he tossed the canvas bag onto the table, he proceeded to proudly tell his family how the son of the wisest Elder tried to belittle him with his knowledge. Týr bragged to his parents how he quickly showed the son of the Elder, and his father, how wisdom and knowledge were no match for brute strength. And then, to their horror, Týr pulled the heads of both the Elder, and his son out of the sack and held them up for all to see. Hvítrbrún immediately became physically ill, while even Brunniþoka, with her strong constitution, could not bring herself to look at the faces of the murdered Elder and his son whom she had known for quite a number of years.

Hymir, for the first time, saw that his son had become the uncontrollable monster that his mistress had tried to warn him about. He also knew that he could not wait any longer to try and stop Týr from making things worse than they already were.

" Give me your axe-hammer ! " he demanded.

Týr paid little attention to his father, and laughed at the thought of handing over his weapon to anyone.

" Give me Dauði now !!! " Hymir screamed at his son.

Týr threw the heads at his father and pointed a bloody finger angrily at him.

" Why don't you try and take my weapon father ! " he shot back with a slight grin.

Hymir and Týr drew their weapons almost simultaneously. Surely they would have come to blows if not for the intervention of Brunniþoka and Hvítrbrún who both stood between them. Týr feared not killing his father, or his dragon mother, but every son, no matter what age, has a place in his heart for his real mother, and the troubled youth finally backed down when he saw her crying pitifully.

Týr laughed at his father, turned abruptly, and was about to leave, when suddenly loud shouts echoed up from the valley below. As they grew louder, and more intense, Brunniþoka waddled out to the edge of the mountain and peered out with her sharp golden eyes to see exactly what was happening. To get a better view she spread her wings, jumped off the ledge, and flew in a wide circle over the valley. What she saw below sparked fear in her soul, and it only grew worse when a moment later she spotted, not a few, but hundreds of torch carrying Rock Giants coming down the valley towards Snaerfjall. A moment later she landed back at the cave and nervously shouted inside.

" Týr ! Týr !! You must leave now ! They are coming to kill you to avenge the death of the Elder and his son ! " she told her son in a frantic tone.

Hymir and Hvítrbrún glanced at one another in shock before quickly adding their voices to the urgency of the dangerous situation that now presented itself.

" Go ! Now !! " Hymir screamed.

Hvítrbrún was more loving with her tone, but she was just as adamant that Týr had to leave at once.

" You must leave this place, my son ! Go far away and find the goodness that I know exists in you ! " she told him with tears in her eyes.

Týr shook his head in disgust at the weakness of their words.

" I will stay and kill them all ! " he replied confidently.

Brunniþoka had heard enough of her son's nonsense, and grabbed his arm tightly with one of her claws.

" There are hundreds of Rock Giants below in the valley ! Not even you, with all of your strength, can defeat that many warriors ! You must leave now while you still can ! " she scolded him.

When it seemed that Týr would not heed their dire warnings, Hvítrbrún made one last attempt to make him leave.

" I beg you Týr ! Please leave before harm befalls you ! I do not want to watch my son die !! " she cried out before sinking to her knees.

The angry youth threw off Brunniþoka's tight grip on his arm and walked out to the ledge. As he looked down into the valley at the small army coming for him he felt no fear, but common sense, and the heartfelt pleading of his true mother, weighed upon his decision. Without looking back, or saying goodbye to those who had raised him, Týr climbed up over their cave dwelling, and began to make his way down the backside of the mountain. At first their was not much urgency in his pace, but once he reached the valley floor on the other side of the mountain he was spotted by another group of Rock Giants whose blood was up for his head, and it was then that he decided it was now a good time for him to run for his life.

All through the night, and into the early morning, he ran through valleys, climbed over mountains, and swam across a huge lake of near freezing water, which was the boundary between the Rock Giants lands and that of the Woodland Jotuns, to escape those who wanted to exact upon him revenge for the killing of the Elder and his son. By the time the weak Jotun sun rose over the distant mountains Týr was wet, cold and very hungry. His effort had, however, paid off for he had easily left the Rock Giants long behind. Here in this new land it dawned on him that he had been exiled from his homeland, by his own kin. His only enemy now was the cold that made him shiver, and the hunger pangs that made his body ache.

Then, as Týr staggered forward looking for shelter, he saw in the distance a flickering light in the early morning mist. As he cautiously approached he saw a shadowy figure roasting meat over a roaring camp fire. Týr reached down and took his mighty axe-hammer out of his belt, and looked around for the best way to approach the stranger. When he spotted what appeared to be a trail that seemed to lead behind the stranger's camp he quietly made his way in that direction.

" This morning will be your last, old one ! " he whispered to himself with a grin.

- End Chapter 6

- Next : Chapter 7 : A Home Away From Home

- Glenn Bergen, ( Ravensheart ), © Copyright, 2019.

' Týr : The God Of War ' : Chapter 5 : An Army Of One

1/22/2019

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 5

An Army Of One

As it appears to happen with all beings who are born from a common ancestor, and who reside within the same realm, divisions seem to always split apart what should be a uniting bond of kinship. The strong prey upon the weak, differing beliefs in a higher power drive a wedge between families, and over time regional ethnicity tends to segregate, and cause animosity and distrust. The Jotuns, one of the oldest beings in the cosmos, were not immune to these civil upheavals. Long before they were united against the Gods of Asgard and Vanaheim, they were nearly torn apart by their own internal turmoil.

There are three separate, but equal regions within Jotunheim that threatened to destabilize the entire Jotun realm. The first, and quite possibly the oldest was the lands of the Frost Giants. Here among the ancient blue ice halls, and bergs that towered over the landscape like monuments to their frigid existence, lived a cold blue tinted race of Jotuns. Hardened by their environment, and as cold in temperament as their weather, they were belligerent towards their neighbors, while envying them for the abundance of food they could produce.

The second of these Giant races are the Rock Jotuns who lived in caves where snow fell only at higher altitudes, but where the weak Jotun sun had some effect upon the seasons, and where there was some growth within this frost zone. Here these hearty beings supplemented their hunts for meat with a few berries, roots and grains that were able to sprout during their very short growing season. Though not quite as dark a shade of blue as their cousins the Frost Giants, their temperament was just as fiery.

The third and final Jotun race is the Woodland Giants who live closest to the fiery realm of Muspelheim. These slightly smaller Jotuns live in the thickly wooded mountains, and valleys of southern Jotunheim. They are generally peaceful hunters, fishermen, and farmers who seldom think of causing trouble for their Jotun neighbors. However, much like their cousins, they kept a keen eye watching the rich Midgardian lands.

Conflicts generally do not begin from true hatred, or any planned animosity, but instead arise when a few members of one of these races encroaches onto the lands of one of their neighbors, usually while hunting, or searching for berries, roots, or herbs for medicine. This is what happened during a severe snow storm when a group of Frost Giants, who were tracking a herd of tundra elk, accidentally crossed over into a valley in the realm of the Rock Jotuns.

Dofri was leading a group of youths, that he was teaching the art of the hunt, when he lost track of where they were. In the blizzard like conditions the elder could barely see the herd let alone landmarks that might warn him that he had entered the Rock Giant's realm. When they within striking distance of the herd Dofri allowed one of his students the honor of casting the first spear. Farbauti, a young and very inexperienced hunter, overshot the elk he had aimed at, and hit a Rock Jotun named Rangbeinn, who with his friend Hymir, and other hunters, were tracking the same herd. What should have been a forgivable accident quickly devolved into a fierce battle with casualties on both sides.

Dofri quickly retreated back to the realm of the Frost Giants and recruited a small army to redeem the honor of those who were lost in the fight. Hymir went to the highest mountain in his domain, and lit a war fire on its summit, to alert his brethren that war was imminent, and that all should gather at the war beacon.

Brunniþoka and Hvítrbrún tried to stop Týr from joining his kinsmen at the war fire, but once the determined young Jotun had made up his mind no one, not the begging and pleading of his natural mother, or the great strength of his dragon step-mother, could stop him from leaving. Hymir, unlike his wife and mistress, was glad to have his young warrior son in their war party for the upcoming fight.

Before his dead could freeze solid in their ice graves Dorfi led his Frost Giants back across the valley that divided the land of ice and rock. At the other end of that same valley Hymir waited with his army to stop the Frost Giant's advance. As he stood stoically waiting for the enemy to reach their position, Hymir looked proudly over at his son and patted him on the shoulder.

" Today you will kill for the first time, my son. I know that you are ready, for I can see the fury of battle in your eyes ! " he stated proudly.

Týr showed no emotion as he replied to his father's compliment.

" They will fall as easily as the trees in the forests to Dauði. " he informed his father.

" Dauði ? " Hymir asked with a frown.

Týr grinned at his father before holding up his shiny weapon in front of him.

" Do you not think the name appropriate ? " he asked.

Hymir laughed heartily.

" The skalds will write songs in its honor ! " he responded.

When the two opposing forces saw each other through the mist they needed no orders from their leaders to attack. Both Frost Giant and Rock Giant raced towards each other like two waves ready to crash against one another. And on that day blue Frost blood, mixed with the grey blood of the Rock Giants on that cold tundra.

The fierceness of the battle was legendary in all manners of brutality. Dofri and Hymir both led their respective Jotuns admirably, while clearing a path through their opponents to get to one another. When they finally met at the center of the valley Hymir swung his rock hammer with a ferocity seldom seen in war, but every time he broke off the ice point of Dorfi's spear it quickly reformed allowing the Frost Giant to hold the blood crazed Rock Giant at bay.

While the two leaders were locked in combat at the center of the battle, the young Týr was causing bloody havoc on the right flank of the Frost Giant line. Like a great Jotun scythe Týr cut a swath of carnage through the enemy's line. With every stroke of Dauði's hammer head skulls were cracked, and with each swing of the razor sharp axe limbs were severed, and blood flowed down all around him like red rain.

This devastation was not lost on the young Frost Giant Farbauti, who was causing quite a bit of mayhem up and down the Rock Giant's line himself. As the blue warrior moved ever forward he spun his great ice spear, which had sharp cutting edges on both ends of the blade, cutting down all those in his path. His progress could easily be followed by the bodies that were piling up in his wake.

As if attracted like moths to a flame Farbauti and Týr slowly fought their way towards one another. After cutting down all those who opposed them the two Jotuns finally stood face to face on the battlefield, which by now had become somewhat quieter through the natural course of attrition.

The two young warriors each stood for a long moment eyeing their opponent before beginning to circle around each other like a world around its star. Farbauti made the first move with a quick thrust of his spear that passed just beneath the armpit of the Rock Giant. Týr countered with a furious swing of his hammer at the ice weapon, but the Frost Giant twirled the spear around, spun it behind his back, before grabbing it with his other hand, and jabbing once again at the Rock Giant.

Týr felt the pressure of the spear point against his chest, but his thick hide armor stopped it before it could penetrate through his skin. Infuriated by the near miss, he dove away from the Frost Giant and did a somersault. As he passed near the surprised Frost Giant's legs he swung Dauði's sharp axe head at his legs, grazing his right calf, before landing back on his feet outside of the radius of his opponents spear.

Týr was about to engage his opponent again when he heard a loud, but familiar, sound echo through the valley. As he looked to his right he saw his father blowing a ram horn, which was the signal for the Rock Giants to disengage. A moment later a second slightly higher pitched ice horn announced that the Frost Giants were also abandoning the battlefield and going home.

For a moment Farbauti and Týr stood looking at each other as if they were admiring their opponent's skills. Neither wanted to leave their fight unfinished, but both knew that it would be a great dishonor to disobey their leader's command. With a slight nod of respect for each other, the two young Jotun warriors slowly backed away from each other, and returned to what was left of their armies.

As Farbauti reached his line he no longer could hide the pain in his leg, caused by the wound that Týr had inflicted, and he began to limp noticeably. As he winced with every step he counted his blessings, for if he had been just a bit slower in reacting he might have lost his entire lower leg.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Odin sat upon Hlidskjalf beaming with great pride. His son, the flesh of his flesh, and blood of his blood, had distinguished himself with great honor in battle, and the Lord of Asgard could not have been prouder.

" He is a great warrior and fearless ! Better still he is an army of one. A God of War !! " he whispered to himself.

Odin grinned slightly as he rubbed his beard.

" And you will soon be joined by two brothers, for Frigga, and Jord, are both now with child. I have planted the seeds of a great army that will some day defend my realms ! " he stated with a nod.

- End Chapter 5

- Next : Chapter 6 : Exiled !

- Glenn Bergen, ( Ravensheart ), © Copyright, 2019.

' Týr : The God Of War ' : Chapter 4 : A Feisty Young Child !

1/21/2019

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 4

A Feisty Young Child

Týr, though not as big as other Jotun children his age, was stronger than most of the other youths that he played with. Along with his enhanced might he could run faster, and jump higher, than any of his friends, or enemies for that matter. He was also by far the best wrestler of anyone his age in Jotunheim, and was not afraid to defend himself against anyone. If Týr had a flaw in his character it was that he often did not know when to stop when fighting those who meant him harm. Hymir often was confronted by father's who complained that his little child had beaten up their much bigger son, or in some instances sons ! And although he tried to hide his pride, and his great joy with regards to his son's prowess, often Hymir could not help but be somewhat sarcastic when replying to their concerns over Týr's behavior.

One day a Jotun named Hripstod came calling to Snaefjall with his badly beaten son Kyrmir. Hymir could not help but notice that Kyrmir was a full head and neck taller than Týr. With a huge grin on his face he spoke to the angry father.

" Are you quite certain Hripstod that it was my child who injured your son so badly ? " he asked with a hint of surprise in his voice.

Hripstod narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brows as he replied.

" Why would my son lie about such a thing as this ! ? " he asked in return, as he pointed to his son's injuries.

Hymir tried not to laugh, but a small giggle came out despite his best efforts.

" I am not saying that your son is not telling the truth. It merely is hard to believe that my son could have done so much damage to your son's face, when my child is sooo much smaller. " he told the angry father sarcastically.

Hripstod reached over and grabbed Hymir roughly by the front of his shirt.

" Maybe I should demonstrate on you just how your son beat my child ! " he shouted angrily at Hymir.

Hymir was about to break the hold that Hripstod had on him when out of the corner of his eye he saw something pass by his head. He quickly jerked his head out of the way just in time to see Tyr's fist go by. Hripstod was not quite as alert, however, and Tyr's knuckles quickly bore down hard on the face of Kyrmir's father, breaking his nose with a loud snap. The Jotun let go of Hymir and staggered backward a few steps before falling head first onto the ground.

Tyr gave Kyrmir a mocking grin and pointed to his father who lay prostrate on the ground.

" I would suggest that you help your father get home before anyone else is hurt this day ! " he told the boy in the form of an order.

Brunniþoka and Hvítrbrún were stunned when they were made aware of the incident, but Hymir gladly told the story over and over again to anyone who would listen. He was especially proud when he heard that Hripstod was threatening to go to the Jotun Elders to make a formal complaint about his son. Brunniþoka and Hvítrbrún of course were horrified, but Hymir wanted the Elders, and everyone else in Jotunheim for that matter, to know of his son's great strength.

" Why is he always getting into trouble ? "  Hvítrbrún asked.

Brunniþoka who, like her husband, was proud of Týr, chimed in weakly :

" Yes ! He does seem to be quiet a feisty young child. " she mentioned almost matter-of- factly.

Nothing ever became of the incident. Hripstod was much too embarrassed to actually go before the Elders with a story of a young child, who had not only beaten up his son, but also knocked him out with a single punch to the nose. The incident did, however, lose Hymir and Týr many of their friends, for most of the Jotun parents were afraid of this Jotun child who could fight as well as any warrior in their frozen realm !

Hymir was so very proud of his son that he went to the Svartalfheim to see the Dwarf Ivaldi. The father of Týr knew his son could fight well with his hands, but now he wanted to see what the little warrior could do if he had a weapon to wield. When Ivaldi heard the stories of the young lad's exploits of skill and strength, he suggested a weapon that could both cut, and smash his opponents to death. For days Ivaldi worked on a piece of very special steel, working the red hot metal, and pounding it into just the right shape, while his young apprentice sons worked the bellows for him. When the sharpened and highly polished weapon was finally finished Ivaldi called Hymir and Týr into his workshop to show them.

Hymir could not believe his eyes when he saw the strange looking weapon. The father and son had to squint to look at it because it was polished to such a fine luster that the flames from the furnace reflected off of it, like lightning dancing across the heavens, partially blinding them. But the oddest thing about the weapon was that it had an axe on one side of the head, and a hammer on the other !

Ivaldi handed the weapon to Týr, who looked it over as though it were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He tossed it from hand to hand to judge the balance of the weapon, and swung it through the air to get a feel for its weight. When he felt he understood the weapon well enough, he spun around, and with a mighty swing of his right arm slammed the hammer head up against the anvil that Ivaldi had used to make the weapon.

Hymir and Ivaldi watched in horror, and with a bit of fascination too, as the anvil cracked down the middle. Moments later the two halves split apart, each falling to the floor simultaneously. After a moment of reflection Hymir's chin dropped to his chest, and he took a deep breath before reluctantly asking the blacksmith a question that greatly pained him.

" How much for the axe-hammer,....., and of course the anvil ? "

Ivaldi shook his head in disbelief.

" The weapon will cost you twenty five gold pieces, but I cannot charge you for the anvil. It was a weapon I fashioned in my own workshop that destroyed the anvil, and therefore I cannot blame the boy for not knowing how powerful the axe-hammer is, when I myself had no idea ! " he explained.

Both elders were astonished when the usually impetuous young Jotun shook the hand of Ivaldi, and complimented him for his great skill in making such a fine weapon. Hymir thanked the Dwarf blacksmith, and gladly paid him the asking price, before he and his son took their leave of the Dark Dwarf 's homeland.

On the way back to Snaerfjall Hymir was both amazed and terrified as he watched his son reduce boulders to pebbles with the hammer side of the weapon, and also cut down trees with barely an effort with the axe. And despite all of this destruction the weapon did not dull either its blade, or the mirror like finish that the blacksmith had so carefully and painstakingly polished onto the weapon's surface.

Hymir grinned from ear to ear as he watched Týr destroy anything and everything in his path with his new weapon of war.

" My child is destined for great things ! " he told himself as his son wreaked havoc on the forest around them.

- End Chapter 4

- Next : An Army Of One

- Glenn Bergen, ( Ravensheart ), © Copyright, 2019.

' Týr : The God Of War ' : Chapter 3 : An Echo In The Mountains

1/20/2019

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 3

An Echo In The Mountains

Hymir was happy, and yet at the same time he was quite surprised by the kindness shown by Brunniþoka towards Hvítrbrún. He had half expected his wife to mistreat his mistress with anger and possibly even violence during her pregnancy, but he had greatly underestimated Brunniþoka's ability to forgive and forget. Several times Hymir had even caught sight of his wife stroking Hvítrbrún's stomach lovingly while she slept. As the days went by the bond between the two females seemed to grow stronger and stronger.

Brunniþoka held her nine hundred spiteful tongues in check while the child was growing within the fleshy body of the being known to her as White Brow. She had only allowed her husband to bring Hvítrbrún into their home for one reason and one reason only, and that purpose was about to literally bear fruit. When Hymir had placed his seed into this woman it had given her hope for the first time that at last she could have a child with Hymir through one of his mistresses. Brunniþoka wished that she could have conceived a child through Hymir, but it was common knowledge that a live bearer, and an egg layer, cannot make a baby together.

Hvítrbrún thought it quite cute that Hymir and Brunniþoka were taking such good care of her now that she was with child. Brunniþoka had barely acknowledged her existence before the pregnancy, but now she was seeing to her every last whim. It seemed to Hvítrbrún that there was nothing that the dragon wife of Hymir would not do for her.

After the first few months went by and no child was born Brunniþoka began to become impatient. Dragons hatched their eggs within about thirty days, but this frail bulging fleshy woman seemed to be taking her sweet time in delivering their child, while in the meantime she was taking great advantage of her hospitality. Several times while she stroked the soft home of her unborn child Brunniþoka wished she could rip the baby out of her womb with her sharp claws and discard the female as nothing more than a useless broken shell. But alas, and to Brunniþoka's great displeasure, her husband assured her that the child would not survive unless it incubated for at least nine months.

When the eighth month had passed Brunniþoka began to check on Hvítrbrún constantly to see if the time had come for her to push the fully formed child out of her body. Hymir had explained to her that Hvítrbrún would groan, moan, and sweat while in a greatly agitated state when the time came. The only one who seemed to be agitated, however, was Brunniþoka when she checked on White Brow every day only to find her happy and content, and without any of the symptoms that Hymir had described. Quickly her attitude towards Hvítrbrún began to change.

" It will come soon ! " Hymir assured his wife every night.

Brunniþoka, however, was now at her wits end. She was tired of waiting on the " Princess ", as she referred to Hvítrbrún, and she began to spend more and more time away from their cavern home. She would tell her husband, and Hvítrbrún, that game animals were not as abundant this season, and that the hunts were taking longer, but in truth she could no longer stand the whining little female her husband had brought into their home.

Then one day, while she was perched on a ledge guarding the mountain goat she had killed hours before, she heard an odd sound far off in the distance. She listened closely for a moment as the sound carried from mountain to mountain. As the echoes grew in intensity she suddenly realized that these thunderous sounds were actually the screams of a woman in severe pain.

" It is time ! My baby will soon be born !! " she cried out loud.

Brunniþoka abandoned the goat carcass and flew as fast as her webbed wings would carry her. With every beat of her wings the screams became louder and much more intense. Just as she landed on the ledge outside of the cave, a final shriek of horror belched from the cave and became an echo that rumbled through the mountains. Though Brunniþoka did not know it at the time this volcanic explosion of sound was the announcement that their child had been born.

As she slowly, and somewhat warily, entered the cave Brunniþoka saw her husband lovingly cradling their child in his arms. First the first time in her life the strict and hard-headed dragon felt an emotion other than anger. As she placed a clawed hand over her mouth she wished that she too could feel the deep emotions that these fleshy females felt, and shed a tear of joy. For the moment, however, she would have to be content with simply gazing upon the child contently.

" It is a male, my love ! And I believe that I will call it Týr ! " he announced proudly to his wife.

Brunniþoka could not hold back what she felt any longer and expressed her great joy as any happy dragon would. After taking a deep breath she let out a great roar from each of her nine hundred heads that quickly reverberated through the mountains causing huge avalanches wherever the snow was loose and powdery. It was much worse inside the cave itself where the sound echoed off of of the walls, sent pots and pans crashing to the floor, and made the great brewing cauldron swing wildly back and forth over the fire.

When she calmed herself enough to think rationally again Brunniþoka grinned from ear to ear. For now the fleshy woman had fulfilled her purpose and could finally be disposed of. With her golden eyes gleaming, and her claws ready to strike, she crept slowly and menacingly towards the resting Hvítrbrún. Just as her shadow hovered over the female incubator, however, she heard something that shook her right down to her core.

" What is that noise ?! " she screamed as she covered her ears with her wings.

Hymir laughed.

" The child is crying, my dear. " he announced happily.

Eighteen hundred eyes stared at Hymir for a long moment in total disbelief.

" Make it stop ! " she demanded.

Hymir frowned deeply as he replied to his wife's request.

" Babies cry all the time my dear. You will learn to accept it,...., eventually . " he assured her.

It was then that the child began to cry even louder. The high pitched sound resounded through her nine hundred heads again and again, like thunder crashing in her brains, until she could stand it no longer. With a roar of her own she ran out of the cave, jumped off the ledge, and took to flight. She flew on fast wings for about five miles where the sound finally became somewhat faded. Here she landed on a huge rock that jutted out from the mountain top. With her golden eyes opened wide with horror she stared back at the cave in disbelief.

" Possibly I have been hasty. It might actually be a good idea to allow Hvítrbrún to stay and take care of this child that my husband has named Týr ! " she whispered to herself nervously.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Heimdall alerted Odin with a short blast of his mighty horn the moment he heard the distant cries of distress in the solar system where the realm of Jotunheim resided. With ears as sensitive as the Great White Gods, he was said to able to detect the sounds of grass sprouting, and the wool on the backs of sheep growing. And these shrieks, which were coming from the land of the Jotuns, could hardly be missed by the stoic sentinel of Asgard !

Odin heard Heimdall's call and slipped away from his new wife Frigga as discreetly as possible. He quickly made his way to Hlidskjalf where, upon his all-seeing throne, he witnessed the birth of his son. Overjoyed to the point of madness, Odin wanted to tell everyone in all the nine worlds of the birth of his son Týr. His happiness was soon overshadowed, however, by the realization that he was now married to the daughter of Fjorgyn.

" No one must ever know of this ! " he shouted at the image of his son with great disappointment. To relieve his great anger Odin pounded his fist on the arm of his high-seat until the fury had passed.

- End Chapter 4

- Next : A Feisty Young Child !

- Glenn Bergen, ( Ravensheart ), © Copyright, 2019.

' Týr : The God Of War ' : Chapter 2 : A Kettle Full Of Trouble !

1/18/2019

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 2

A Kettle Full Of Trouble

Odin watched as Hvítrbrún picked frost berries in a partially frozen field below her home in Snaerfjall. The Lord of Asgard smiled every time she bent over to pick another berry because it exposed more of her milky white bosoms for him to enjoy. Despite being halfway across the cosmos, from his high-seat at Hlidskjalf, Odin could see her perfectly combed and braided blonde hair, and her beautiful sky blue eyes, as clearly as if he were standing next to her in the frost field.

Yes ! He could have loved her, for she was a shining star that lit up the darkness of his heart. And he did make love to her once, but that love was repaid with lies and treachery. All he asked for from this beautiful young woman was one small favor. What he received, however, was a betrayal ! And it all began so happily with the planning of a great feast. Odin's vision slowly began to fade, from the reality of what was in front of him, to the images in his mind as he recalled how this whole misadventure had come about.

For millennium he had watched as the creatures in Midgard's watery domain evolved into land creatures that could reason and work in groups for the good of the whole herd, or pack. Some, such as early dolphins, seals and whales had become quite intelligent indeed. But none rivaled the intellect of the beings that lived on Ljosalfheim, Svartalfheim, or even Jotunheim for that matter. So on that fateful day, when he, along with his brothers Vili and Vé, came upon those feeble trees along the Midgardian shore they rose them up and gave them traits that mirrored, in many aspects, those of the Gods themselves.

It had been Aegir's idea to celebrate the birth of humankind on Midgard with a huge feast to mark the occasion. Odin's father Bor, and his mother, the Giantess Bestla, liked the idea very much, and decided that everyone should pitch in to help Aegir make the celebration a great success. And there was much to do, for the guest list was quite long and far reaching. Besides the Aesir, and the many Light Elves and Dark Dwarves who would attend, others like Bolthorn, Fjorgyn, Fornjot, and his sons, Aegir's brothers, Logi and Kari would be coming as well. And of course Aegir's wife Ran, and her nine daughters, would also be attending the festivities.

Each of those involved in the planning of the feast were given a specific task to do. Bor, with his mighty bow, hunted for game, while Vili and Vé picked fruits and vegetables. Bestla, known for her baking skills, made pastries and breads, while Ran and her daughters swam throughout their watery domain gathering up a variety of fresh fish. Aegir was given the duty of making the ale, because he was considered one of the best brewers in all the nine worlds. Aegir, then gave him, the great Lord of Asgard, the task of finding a kettle large enough to brew the great quantity of ale that would be required to quench the thirst of all their prominent guests.

He knew of only one pot in all of the nine worlds that could be possibly be large enough for the job at hand. The problem, however, was that it was owned by the individual who was quite possibly the second greatest brewer in the cosmos. And he was an enemy of Asgard and Midgard. This being was the Jotun named Hymir.

He was certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Hymir would not, under any circumstances, allow him to borrow the great cauldron. The relations between the Gods and the Giants had always been on shaky ground, especially when that ground was Midgard, but when he and his brothers gave that realm to these humans, many of the Frost Giants, led by Farbauti, swore to do everything in their power to wrest that land away from these puny newcomers.

No ! If he was to obtain this kettle he would have to either take it by force or cunning. Despite recent threats by the Frost Giants they had actually, as of yet, not done anything against the Midgardians or Asgardians, and therefore he felt that he had no right to travel to the realm of the Giants to spread violence. This left the son of Bor only one option. He would have to use his famous wisdom, which had secured the high-seat of Asgard for him over his brothers, to formulate a plan to steal the kettle.

As an Asgardian Odin could not simply travel to Jotunheim, climb Snaerfjall, and carry the massive pot back to Asgard, without being noticed by one or more of the residence of this cold realm. Even if he waited until the family of Hymir was not at home, how could he possibly carry it all the way down the mountain, which would take some time, and back to Asgard without being caught. Right from the beginning he decided that he required the aid of one of those who lived at Snaerfjall.

The choices he had for assistance were extremely limited. He obviously could not ask Hymir, nor could he try to illicit the help of his loving, but hideous wife Brunniþoka. That left only one option open for him, and she was Hymir's beautiful mistress Hvítrbrún.

He considered many ways to make the young maiden help him steal the cauldron. He could threaten her life, blackmail her with lies, or seduce Hymir's mistress, make her fall in love with him, and then simply ask, as her lover, for her assistance. He opted for the latter of these choices because it seemed not only the wisest, but also the most enjoyable way to succeed.

From a very young age he had developed the ability to shape change, and he decided that he would put this gift to good use against Hvítrbrún. Instead of walking into the frozen realm, he flew into Jotunheim in the form of an eagle. After circling the area around Snaerfjall many times he found the young maiden walking below in a snowdrift. He quietly landed a short distance away, and shape-changed into a being so beautiful in every way that no woman could possibly refuse his advances.

Hvítrbrún had quickly become smitten by his good looks, strong physique, and wonderful charm. In a small cave, at the bottom of Snaerfjall, she lay down with him. For hours they made love, promising each other many things in the throes of passion. When he had finally gained a promise from the maiden that she would keep Hymir and his wife away from their cave dwelling long enough for him to take the cauldron he left her and changed back into eagle form to watch from high overhead.

Around and around he had flown as he waited for Hvítrbrún to coax Hymer and his dragon wife out of their home among the rocks. When his wings tired he landed and perched himself on the cliff across from the cave. And there he sat for quite some time hoping that Hymir's mistress would not disappoint him.

The, just as the tiny Jotun sun began to set over the distant mountains, he observed Hvítrbrún leave the cave, followed by Hymir and Brunniþoka. He sat watching anxiously as the three slowly made their way down the mountain. When he could no longer see them with his sharp predator eyes he spread his wings and glided over to the cave entrance.

When he was safely inside he quickly found the great kettle and grabbed hold of it with his strong talons. Not knowing how much time Hvítrbrún had bought him, he immediately began dragging the kettle out of the cave. Once he was clear of the roof of the cavern he brought it over the ledge and prepared to fly back to Asgard with his prize. It was then that he heard the angry screeches of a dragon not too far off in the distant.

His plan was perfect in every way except one. Promises made in the throes of orgasm are not often kept. And the one made by Hvítrbrún was no exception to this general rule. As he looked out into the darkening skies of Jotunheim he saw a bright yellow glow light up the coming night. Now he knew had to make a decision, and quickly ! Trying to escape while carrying the cauldron in his talons was out of the question. He had thought for a moment about using the great pot as a weapon, but if he threw it at the dragon it would surely break when it hit the floor of the valley below and be lost forever.

He was still weighing his options when he caught sight of Hymir climbing up the mountain furiously after him. It had now became obvious to him that he had been betrayed by Hvítrbrún, and that he had but one choice still available to him.

Reluctantly he set the cauldron down on the ledge of the cliff, and jumped off. When he cleared the rocks he flapped his great wings furiously to gain speed, and make his escape. With all the strength he could muster he sped away towards the safety of the Rainbow Bridge, which was the way back to Asgard, and a barrier that no Jotun would dare cross. Unfortunately he had not counted on the anger and tenacity of Brunniþoka.

He sensed the dragon's presence long before he felt its hot breath on his tail feathers. With renewed exertion he flapped his massive wings vigorously trying to put distance between himself and the flames of Brunniþoka's fury. No matter how hard he tried, however, the great dragon remained close behind him all the way back to Bifrost, singeing his tail feathers all the way. And to his great surprise the dragon chased him all the way up to the golden gates of Asgard ! Only the image of Heimdall standing guard at his post forced the great dragon to turn back, and go no further. When he landed, the normally stoic Heimdall could not help but raise an eyebrow at him over what he had just witnessed. The guardian of Asgard, however, was honorable and told him that he would never speak of this incident again.

Odin cringed in his high-seat as the memory of these events flashed through his mind. Not only did he fail to bring the kettle back to Asgard, but he had planted a seed within Hvítrbrún that was almost ready to bloom into his bastard child. A fact that he wanted no one to know ! Especially the woman, named Frigga, who would soon be sitting on the high-seat next to him. For a marriage had been arranged for them by Bor and Fjorgyn, and if anyone were to find out about his indiscretion, with the maiden Hvítrbrún, it would surely bring much shame to both families, and possibly stop their union.

- End Chapter 2

- Next : Chapter 3 : An Echo In The Mountains

- Glenn Bergen, ( Ravensheart ), © Copyright, 2019.

' Týr : The God Of War ' : Chapter 1 : Whose Child Is This ?

1/15/2019

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 1

Whose Child Is This ?

Hymir paced nervously back and forth in his humble cave dwelling, which lay high atop Snaerfjall. When the confining space of his home was not enough to quell his tattered nerves the Jotun walked out into the cold fresh air of Jotunheim, and looked to the east. As he watched the ice flow on the river Elivagar below he kept asking himself the same question over and over again.

" How did Hvítrbrún get pregnant ?! "

Then in an attempt to rationalize what had happened he thought to himself out loud :

" I have had several concubines over the years, but never did any of them bear me a child ! "

Hymir shook his head from side to side out of sheer disgust. He could debate the reasons for Hvítrbrún's pregnancy until he was pale in the face, but his concubine was not the problem.

" How will I tell Brunniþoka ? ! " he asked himself with more than a hint of guilt in his voice.

As he stared back into the cave he could smell the lovely aroma of beer brewing in his massive kettle. Brunniþoka had, as usual, started the brewing process before she flew off to hunt for their dinner.

" My wife is so kind to me. " he whispered to himself happily.

Then, as if the winds of fortune had changed, he dropped his chin down to his chest, and became lost in shame and regret.

" Brunniþoka has been a good and faithful wife,...., I should simply be honest with her and tell her everything. " he said trying to convince himself that he had the courage to tell his fire breathing wife that he had cheated on her.

Then suddenly he heard a familiar roar off in the distance that echoed through the mountains, and he froze perfectly still like an icicle.

" Brunniþoka is going to kill me ! " he told himself.

Moments later a horrible warm ache ran up his spine as he heard her great wings flapping behind him.

The dragon wife of Hymir dropped the huge goat she had killed onto the ledge before vigorously flapping her wings to slow her descent so she could land near the cave entrance where her husband stood facing away from her. Instead of folding her wings against her back Brunniþoka wrapped them around her husband and gave him a hug.

" Why does my chilly lover stand here staring into our home ? " she asked before her many heads kissed him one after the other.

Hymir slowly turned around and looked his wife in the eyes. At least he hoped they were the eyes of the head which had spoken to him.

" Over here ! " another one of his wife's heads shouted with a sly grin upon its face.

Hymir smiled.

" So many lips to kiss ! " he replied before kissing the ones on the head that had spoken.

Brunniþoka kissed her husband back passionately, but then, as if she sensed some invisible force between them, she pushed him away.

" Why did you not answer my question ? " a different head asked.

Hymir diverted his eyes in shame, and remained silent for a moment. Brunniþoka in turn narrowed her hundreds of eyes and pulled back her wings.

" What have you done this time ! ? " several heads asked simultaneously.

Hymir's face stretched and crinkled into grotesque forms as he tried to find the right words to tell his wife what had happened. Finally, after running many different scenarios over in his mind, he decided to just tell the truth.

" Remember when you agreed that it was,...., acceptable for me to have a concubine ? " he began timidly.

Brunniþoka angrily placed her scaly hands on her wide hips, which made her wings flare out like a shield on her back. With golden eyes beginning to blaze with anger she interrupted her husband.

" I don't know if I would use the word, "acceptable"..... she began, but quickly stopped when a horrid thought came upon her.

" Do you want another concubine !!? " her heads yelled all at once.

Hymir hung his head low again, and waved his hands out in front of him.

" No ! No !! Apparently one is more than enough to cause trouble ! " he told his wife.

Brunniþoka placed the nose of one of her heads up against Hymir's nose.

" What has Hvítrbrún done ! Tell me the truth, or I will light a fire under you ! " she threatened.

Hymir could feel the heat growing in his wife's belly, and knew it was time to tell her the whole truth.

" Hvítrbrún is going to have my child. " he finally managed to blurt out.

Relieved by the clearing of his conscious Hymir stared into the eyes of the head closest to him and waited anxiously for his wife's reaction. Incredibly Brunniþoka did not blast him with her intense flames, or whip him with her bony tail. Instead she moved her many heads to one side, as if she were deep in thought about what she had just been told, and contemplated her options. Her response shocked Hymir right down to his core.

" No ! Hvítrbrún will have our child ! " she told him with a fiendish grin.

Hymir frowned.

" But my dear the other Jotuns will ask, " whose child is this ", if they see that you are not pregnant. " he tried to explain rationally.

Brunniþoka placed one of her very sharp claws up against her husband's throat, and scratched her husband's blue flesh just hard enough to gain an expression of pain from him.

" Hvítrbrún will not be allowed to leave this cave, nor will we allow visitors to see her, until after the baby is born. As for me, dragons do not show when they are with child, so no one will be able to tell if I am pregnant, and therefore they will not suspect that I did not give birth ! " she told her husband sternly.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Across the cosmos a young God named Odin sat upon his high seat and viewed it all from his great hall at Hlidskjalf, in Asgard. He grinned as he whispered to the images that could not hear him.

" No, Brunniþoka ! Hvítrbrún is not going to have your child,...., or Hymir's child for that matter. I am the one who lay with her disguised as a being of great beauty. Hvítrbrún is going to have my child ! " he replied before breaking into a hearty laugh !

- End Chapter 1

- Next : Chapter 2 : A Kettle Full Of Trouble !

- Glenn Bergen, ( Ravensheart ), © Copyright, 2019.

Story 81 : Týr : The God Of War : Prologue

1/14/2019

Týr : The God Of War

Prologue

Time, as we experience it today, is a word, and a perceivable concept, that only we modern human beings are familiar with. Our ancestors saw time literally much differently than we do here in this mechanized age. In an era devoid of alarm clocks, and other digital devices, it was the sun which told our folk what time to awaken, when to eat, and the time at which their arduous day would end. Larger measures of time were judged by the phases of the moon, and of course by the position of the sun in the heavens, that marked the seasons.

This grand perception of time is of the utmost importance to us humans, but to our creators, the ones who we call, " Gods ", it has little or no meaning at all. A thousand years goes by in the blink of an eye, and the millions of years between the beginning of the cosmos, and the birth and demise of the dinosaurs, who to our deities were only guests upon the world they created from Ymir's body, all happened in what the Gods would consider a good night's sleep.

You may well ask yourself at this juncture why I am concentrating so much of my effort discussing the subject of time. Well, that is quite easily explained. This story you see, is about the God Týr, or more to the point, the time long long ago when a child was born into the household of a Jotun named Hymir. So when was this child brought into the nine worlds you may ask ? The birth took place many millennium before the Viking Age. In fact further back in history than either the Migration Period, or the Stone Age. Týr's birth took place in a time that the Edda's clearly define.

" When they were going along the sea shore the sons of Bor found two trees. And they picked them up and created from them mankind. The first gave them spirit and life; the second understanding and the power of movement; the third, form, speech, hearing, and sight. They gave them clothing and names. The man they called Ask and the woman Embla. "

Yes, my friends this story takes place at a time that we refer to as " The Dawn of Mankind ". When the sparks of intelligence were just beginning to evolve in our minds the Jotuns, and Asgardians, had already lived for untold years and had already developed complex civilizations. While we, the mortal sons of Odin, Vili and Vé, were learning to make fire, Týr, the child who would one day become known as "The God Of War " was born high in a mountain in Jotunheim.

And now let me begin this grand tale, for I feel I have taken up enough of your time !

- Next : Chapter 1 : Whose Child Is This ?

- Glenn Bergen, ( Ravensheart ) © Copyright, 2019.

' Thorgest : The Life And Death Of A Viking Raider ' : Chapter 16 : Aftermath

1/13/2019

Thorgest : The Life And Death Of A Viking Raider

Chapter 16

Aftermath

The death of King Thorgest, or Turgesius as he was known to the Irish, in 843 A.C.E. did not end the conflicts between the kings of Ireland, the Vikings, and those known as the Norse-Gaels. Around the year 851 A.C.E., seven years after Thorgest's death, a great influx of what the Irish called, " Dark Foreigners ", arrived in Ireland to support the Vikings who were already there, or to carve out kingdoms of their own. To fortify their holdings the Vikings built longphorts, what the Irish called, " Hurdled Forts ", at key positions along the coast and inner waterways. The Danes took over Dyvlinarskire in 850 A.C.E., and by 863 Olaf the White, and his Norwegians, retook the settlement. Olaf, who was the given the title Amlaib Conung, had become what the Irish called the King of the Foreigners. From here, in modern day Dublin, Olaf, along with his brothers Imar, and Auisle, ruled over all the of Vikings in Ireland.

Lord Melaghlin, also known by the lengthy name Mael Sechnaill mac Maele Ruanaid, quickly rose in stature do to his cunning and exploits. After killing his brother in 845 A.C.E. he became the King of Mide. The following year he took the title of King of Tara as well upon the death of Nialle Caille. However these grandiose titles, along with eventually gaining the crown as High King of all Ireland, did not give the hero of Westmeath, and the killer of Thorgest, the peace that he sought for himself or his people.

The High King of Ireland was in constant conflict with either the Vikings, or with these, "Dark Foreigners", when they allied themselves with other Irish Clansmen such as the Cinaid mac Conaing, or the Cerball mac Dunlainge, two of Melaghlin's bitterest foes. In 858 his army, known as the, " Men of Ireland ', marched into Munster burned their villages and crops, killed their leaders, and marched south to the coast in a similar fashion to what the American General Sherman did 1000 years later during the American Civil War.

The king's of Northern Ui Neill, however, became suspicious of Melaghlin's intentions as his power grew and raised an army to oppose him. In 860 A.C.E. the King of All Ireland marched north and fought Aed Findlaith and Flann mac Conaing in a rare night battle which ended quite poorly for Melaghlin's opponents. They recovered and fought battles with Melaghlin in 861 and 862 as well.

In the 16th year of his reign Melaghlin, according to the Annals of Ulster, on the third Feria, the second of the Kalends of December, died. He would be eventually be succeeded by his son Flann Sinna.

April of 1014 saw one of the largest battles between the Dublin Vikings and the Irish. The High King of Ireland, known as Brian, along with his son and grandson, attacked the settlement of Dublin, which at the time was led by the Dubhgall, or Danish Vikings. Four hundred Irishmen died, including the High king, his son, and his grandson, but the carnage according to Irish sources was much worse for the Vikings who supposedly lost seven thousand warriors whose feet were set upon the path to Valhalla.

Though the Irish by this time had stopped the expansion of these, " Dark Foreigners ", into their lands they were never totally able to extricate them from their borders due to the exploits of Viking warriors such as Thorgest, Ivar the Boneless, and of course The Great Heathen Army. To this day Viking blood runs through many in Ireland adding to their proud heritage, and wonderful history.

- The End

- Next : Tyr : God Of War © 2019.

- Glenn Bergen, ( Ravensheart ), © Copyright, 2018.

<<Previous

Forward>>

' Týr : The God Of War ' : Chapter 8 : " Murder Is Not War ! "

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 8

" Murder Is Not War ! "

' Týr : The God Of War : Chapter 7 : A Home Away From Home

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 7

A Home Away From Home

' Týr : The God Of War ! ' : Chapter 6 : Exiled !

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 6

Exiled !

' Týr : The God Of War ' : Chapter 5 : An Army Of One

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 5

An Army Of One

' Týr : The God Of War ' : Chapter 4 : A Feisty Young Child !

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 4

A Feisty Young Child

' Týr : The God Of War ' : Chapter 3 : An Echo In The Mountains

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 3

An Echo In The Mountains

' Týr : The God Of War ' : Chapter 2 : A Kettle Full Of Trouble !

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 2

A Kettle Full Of Trouble

' Týr : The God Of War ' : Chapter 1 : Whose Child Is This ?

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 1

Whose Child Is This ?

Story 81 : Týr : The God Of War : Prologue

Týr : The God Of War

Prologue

' Thorgest : The Life And Death Of A Viking Raider ' : Chapter 16 : Aftermath

Thorgest : The Life And Death Of A Viking Raider

Chapter 16

Aftermath

Categories

Archives

Týr : The God Of WarChapter 8" Murder Is Not War ! "

Týr : The God Of WarChapter 7A Home Away From Home ​

Týr : The God Of WarChapter 6Exiled ! ​

Týr : The God Of WarChapter 5An Army Of One ​

Týr : The God Of WarChapter 4​A Feisty Young Child

Týr : The God Of WarChapter 3 An Echo In The Mountains ​

Týr : The God Of WarChapter 2A Kettle Full Of Trouble​

Týr : The God Of WarChapter 1​Whose Child Is This ? ​

Týr : The God Of War Prologue ​

Thorgest : The Life And Death Of A Viking Raider​Chapter 16Aftermath​

Categories

Archives

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 8

" Murder Is Not War ! "

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 7

A Home Away From Home

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 6

Exiled !

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 5

An Army Of One

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 4

A Feisty Young Child

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 3

An Echo In The Mountains

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 2

A Kettle Full Of Trouble

Týr : The God Of War

Chapter 1

Whose Child Is This ?

Týr : The God Of War

Prologue

Thorgest : The Life And Death Of A Viking Raider

Chapter 16

Aftermath