Preparation
by Wulder Yngling

With my Cempa away at Heorot, there is very little peace for me in mind and heart. A fyrd is useless without it's Heah-ge-refa. Granted, my army is comprised of some of the most skilled warriors in Jutland, and each individual man is an army in himself. But without Beowulf to guide their actions and have them fight as a single-minded entity, we are vulnerable from all sides to invasion: the Roman comitatus from the South, Scylding vikings from the Eastern Isles, and Britons from the West. And it is only a matter of time before Woden and his entourage arrive at the great wooden door, demanding a cnight's fee for my holding Ydalir. The last thing the Waetlings are prepared to do is aid the Æse. I could not ask that of Witege. I could ask it of Skatha. I could not ask it of myself. Therefore...

My cousin Skatha and I duel in the snow-covered valley of the Beadufeld. Much blood has been spilled here over the centuries, though frost obscures war history in a blanket of white. The Elivagar, which separates Ulfdael from Niflheim, is not a wide body of water, and now more than ever the Powers of Frost mock our weakness. Today, our duel is to keep up our own prowess. Skatha has offered to take over Beowulf's office as Cempa, but I am reluctant to burden her with yet another role. She is our priestess - our mortal connection to Eostre and Nerthus. I swing my axe at her neck, but she ducks and swings her saex blade. The leather binding on my axe is severed, and the iron head of the weapon flies from the handle. I am left with a wooden haft, which I wield with far less skill than Skatha with her knife!

She is indeed a formidable opponent and a natural leader, but I cannot take her away from her duties at feast and altar. Someone from the fyrd must step forward and prove to possess the makings of a leader and hero.