Time starts flowing again...
Author: Hildibrands Amaligg - Date: Oct 7, 2004 - 07:18

This story continues from Ragnarok. And previously from Helheim.


I am wearily sitting on a shore I do not know. Skidbladnir brought us here safely... as safely as possible: of the young warriors beside me, one is still unconscious and the other is blind and dazed. And still he does not speak.

Why were we spared? Maybe the magical powers of the ship protected us, even while the sky itself and the earth shattered around us.

But who else is alive on Midgard? Did my liege Thidrek make it through for some reason, maybe protected in a similar way in some magical place, or is my quest now vain? And especially... where are we?


Return to the Living
Author: Amleth Yngling - Date: Oct 7, 2004 - 11:46

Through the haze of blindness, visions push their way through, but I cannot believe them to be real. Freyr's ship, the open sea, my lord Boltr-- er, Hildibrands.

It is several minutes, spent is silence, before I finally realize that I still wield the Mistilteinn in my right hand. The blade is covered in blood, and the memory of my slaying Balder the Fair sickens me. Dropping the dreaded weapon, I run to the stern and retch into the sea below. Do we still dwell in Hel's domain? I cup my face in my hands. Have I died a failure to my people and a murderer of the Aesir?

This rolling black sea is as dark as the sky is bright. There is no sun, but the blanket of white across the firmament washes the three of us in the pallor of death. Hildibrands sits contemplatively, near the sail's rigging. He is as perplexed as I, though he seems to be a man more of reason than I. My frustration with the uncertainties reduce me to silent tears. I keep myself removed for now; I must regain my senses and prepare myself for either an eternity at sea or a quest to find Thidrek.


A simple mind
Author: Hildibrands Amaligg - Date: Oct 8, 2004 - 03:39

Amleth finally gives signs of life, but what I see is not encouraging. He must be in shock, and it is understandable. I do not know what to tell him. "Cheer up, everything is all right"? It is not!

I breathe deeply. There is nothing I can do about the world and its fate. Right now my worry is the sanity of this lad. I get up stiffly and walk to him. I have never been able to express much in the way of paternal feelings. What would I do if he were Thidrek? I would set him washing the deck as an exercise in patience. Hmmm. No.

I lay a hand on his shoulder, giving him a slight shake. Maybe a human touch will help. "You did your best, son," I say, hunting for words. "It was not your fault. I think we were just... just... instruments. And one cannot escape his fate. It was meant to be this way. Whatever happens to us now, I am witness: you carried yourself with honour."

I lift my face, searching for inspiration on the wide sea, and squint into the wind. "Look! Is that a stretch of land?"


The Awakening
Author: Beowulf Scylding - Date: Oct 15, 2004 - 15:37

I scream, gasp for breath and rise quickly. My heart races with the thundering pace of Sleipnir's hooves, and I break out into a sweat.

I am aboard a great ship and two figures stand over me. Their faces are not discernable by the glare of a stark sky behind them, but I've no impulse to take a defensive position. Once again I feel the aches and wounds that I escaped during my tenure with the Einherjar. I wonder if this battered body of mine sleep all the while? Had my efforts in Ragnarok won me new life? If so, I have a second chance at defeating the Scourge of Heorot!

"Good day, lords," I smile and squint at the strange men looming over me. "As good a day as any to be alive, no?"


So he is not dead!
Author: Hildibrands Amaligg - Date: Oct 15, 2004 - 16:21

While I am trying to comfort Amleth, the other young man with us comes back to consciousness with a jolt. A quick glance tells me he has no life-threatening injuries. A smile spreads on my face - it hurts, for the battering I took as much as the disuse of those muscles, but it is a good hurting.

"YOU!" I bellow, glaring at him. "We thought you were dead! What did you think you were doing, lad? How on Midgard did you get so beaten up? Now let us fix you up, or you are not going anywhere. And you have to eat something, too." Now that I think of it, I am hungry.

Gods! ...or whatever is left of them! Now I have to look after *two* kids. The story of my life. No peace for this old Goth...


Life begins
Author: Amleth Yngling - Date: Oct 16, 2004 - 02:10

The fallen warrior we've been toting for the last month finally awakens. He brings to our melancholy ship a new perspective, one that Hildibrands and I appreciate immensely. While of a positive nature and a humorous optimism, this strange young man is also subtly hard-edged and equally sarcastic...almost cynical. A difficult juxtaposition to rationalize, but that is the mystery that is Beowulf.

A Geat by birth, he was reared in Scylding land, or so he tells us. The three of us work at casting nets over Skidbladnir's portside, not a mile from shore. While we fish, Beowulf shares with us his wondrous and horrible adventures at Heorot and beyond. I feel I already know the Geat as a brother, yet the Gothic thegn I still know so little of. I suspect Beowulf's aggressive nature and spirit will inspire something in our aged companion. For so long he's bound up his thoughts and feelings in a bottle.

Herring is our first meal in the-gods-know-how-long, cooked over a firepit on deck, and we wash it down with an ale that we nickname Kvasir's Mead, claiming jokingly that we are the new gods!

"The old gods are dead," Beowulf states very matter-of-factly, holding back a laugh. "We three may be the only three left in Midgard!"

"Bite your tongue, Beowulf," I answer him, "for I've hope that there are yet three sumptuous swan-maidens waiting for us in Midgard!" Our uproar of laughter suddenly fades as we all share one disturbing thought: Are we in Midgard?

Slowly we rise and look toward the nearing land. ...Never before have I been to this country.


The Provincial Goth
Author: Hildibrands Amaligg - Date: Oct 17, 2004 - 04:33

As we near the shore, finally with a full belly and slightly better spirits, I stare wonderingly at the unknown beaches in front of us. The spirited Beowulf has traded his story with us, so I guess that in this new world it makes no sense for me to keep being secretive. What I was trying to shield Thidrek from might not even exist anymore. Thidrek himself might not exist anymore. Damn.

"I have no knowledge of this place either," I begin. "By now you know it," I say wearily. "I am not Boltram, looking for my son Sintram. I am Hildibrands of Bern, and I am looking for my liege, Thidrek son of Thetmar, who disappeared with horse and armour and weapons from our castle some months ago without an explanation. He has done it before - he is an unpredictable lad - but he has never neglected his duties for so long, and this is not like him at all."

I gaze at the shores getting nearer. "I thought I was a well-travelled man. We used to roam along the Rhine and beyond, as far as Rome, and into Burgundian territory, and paying a visit to the Huns sometimes... I thought I was expert of the whole known world. Now I realize the world is much larger than I expected."

I fall silent, daunted for a moment by the sheer immensity of it all. Then I laugh aloud. This is indeed my greatest adventure...

This story continues at Heorot.