My mother told me
The old rhyme raced through my head as our long boat beached upon the shore. I gripped my solid iron axe in my hands. my heart raced as we journeyed closer to the temple.
Someday I would buy
Vikingr. It was our duty, it was what we were meant to do. The seers told us that this was Odin's will, that this was our destiny. The long boat held forty of my brothers and sisters in battle. The battle was close at hand. I could feel it in my blood.
Galley with good oars
"Men, Odin is with us!" Ragnil Hroakinson, our leader, yelled at the sky. Above us, the watchers of Odin, black ravens, flew. Two other long boats followed close behind us. From one, the war drummer slammed down rhythmically.
Sail to distant shores
Our boats landed at the shore. With fury, we exited our boats and charged forward. I yelled, wielding my axe, ready to fight.
Stand up high on the prow
The village was nothing but peasants, with little resistance. We charged forth, fresh blood feeding our fury. To the temple, time to take what was our right.
Noble bark I steer
The temple was guarded, with shining knights, and flashing steel. Archers aimed true. My axe struck true. The crimson covered me, and Odin guided my blade. I brought the clergy to their knees with each swing.
Steady course to the haven
Glittering gold was ours to take. I filled my bag with crosses, golden coins, and relics of another time.
"In Odin's name, this temple is ours!" Ragnil yelled.
You many formen
Pain shot through my stomach.
You many formen
A wooden shaft ran through me topped with sharp metal. Blood dripped from the tip. I could hear the valkyrie sing my name.
You many formen
A bright light burned my eyes. I could see her. Freyja, her blonde locks framed her beautiful face, accentuating her plump pink lips and sparkling blue eyes.
I spent weeks staring into the white void, Freyja's beautiful form leading me through the vast emptiness. She lead me to a grand church, a high steeple with stained glass artistry depicting my fight at the temple. Blood dripped from a hole in my stomach.
Freyja lead me inside, past rows of empty pews, and down a long set of spiral stairs to a dank basement. We traveled down a long hallway to a room lit only by candles.
Inside the cobblestone room was a cot with a body under the sheets. A red-bearded Viking with a head of long crimson hair. He was pale and sweating. A living corpse.
Freyja sat next to my body, stroking my hair lovingly. "Brave Ragnar." Her voice was a loving song, a chorus of benevolence. "It is not your time, my brave warrior. Valhalla will wait for you, Odin still has plans for you my brave warrior."
I tried to speak, but my voice caught in my throat.
"Sleep brave Ragnar. Sleep and be ready for the days to come,"
And then it was all black.
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I woke up with a start, breathing deeply. I was still in the basement of the church. I was still in my cot, my stomach was covered in clean bandages. I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through my entire body. My vision went blurry. I laid back down breathing hard, sweat dripping down my face.
I stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Where was I? Why did I hear the song of the valkyrie? Why was I still here? Did I die? I heard steps from outside the door. The steps got close to the door before stopping.
The door slowly creaked open. And standing in the doorway was a vision of beauty. A tall woman in a black dress, and a black head covering. Her face was soft, wearing a kind smile.
She opened her mouth to speak, but I couldn't understand her, it was an alien language to me. She spoke for a moment before leaving me alone again.
Consciousness eluded me once again. I drifted to sleep soon after she left.
I experienced the same cycle over and over again for weeks. I would awake in pain, see the vision of beauty, she would change my bandages or feed me, and I would fall back asleep. Slowly over time, I felt myself heal and get stronger every day.
I woke one day, my stomach pain all but gone. The door opened again, and my bed nurse came inside and sat next to me. She spoke softly.
"Madam," I spoke. "I wish I could understand you, your beauty and kindness are exemplary," I spoke in my native tongue.
"And I wish I could understand you handsome." She spoke in perfect Norse. "I've helped enough of your kind to pick up a thing or two."
"Madam, you're too kind to me. May I ask your name?"
"Beatrice, sister Beatrice," she spoke.
"Well, Sister Beatrice, my thanks for your help in nursing me to health."
"It's the will of god my friend. He wouldn't allow someone as handsome as yourself to leave the world."
I smiled. "You're a Saint Beatrice."
"Not a saint, just doing my duty."
We spent a while talking about each other, she fed me and took care of me all the while.
We spent a few days with each other. She kept nursing me while I healed and recuperated. Beatrice and I grew closer with each passing day.
After almost a month of rest, I was able to stand and even walk around my room with little trouble. The part of my stomach where I had been pierced through was laden with a nasty new scar. Beatrice insisted I stay at the temple, so I obliged her.