Chapter 1. Uninvited Guest
A new day dawns. Yet another day that is not too bright for her. She hopes it is a sea mist that will burn off shortly. It must be a sea mist that will have burned off by the time her husband gets back home...
"Mom, look over there!"
"What?.. Look? Where?"
"There's some ... someone eating the food you left out!" Asa, her little one, suddenly tugs at her dress.
"What? What are you talking about?" she puts her sewing aside and pushes open the wooden window facing the wide pasture and the high mountains beyond.
No, she is not ready for any surprises today. She is not waiting for anybody. She is drained and out of energy. A fortnight ago, her husband Eirik went searching for food. Ever since that moment she has felt a hole in her belly where her emotions have been churning like the angry sea depths, mostly regrets.
And tomorrow is the very night of the Winter Solstice.
It takes her a while to notice that in fact there is someone in the pasture sitting in the snow, eating.
A stranger.
A male stranger.
He sits in front of the offering cairn, reaching up to it for a piece of meat or bread. He devours slowly, without any haste, looking down past the settlement, past the fjord, out to the shining sea.
What the fuck?
"I can handle this," she mumbles looking around herself. Unsurprisingly, there is no one in the longhouse with her but Asa.
"Ok. Stay calm. Just stay calm. Yeah. Everything is gonna be fine. There's nothing to worry about. Go and find some men folk. Maybe Kjetil or Torstein. If you can't find them, anyone will do," she looks down at her little daughter trying to instill a sense of urgency. "Just... just tell them there's a... a... a stranger eating the offerings. They know what to do. They'll understand."
Asa wastes no time as she immediately runs out of the backdoor. Her mother grabs a broom and marches out the front one.
Though standing 4 feet 11 inches tall, she feels herself a true warrior. Without hesitation, she goes straight towards the cairn and that stranger eating there. She marches slowly through the snow with a single minded determination.
Who does this chap think he is!
The stranger looks up at her as she approaches but nothing makes him change his position. He appears to be totally unfazed. He just takes another bite of bread. Besides being apples, bread, and cheese, there are all sorts of delicacies, foods which the settlement has never seen before, slices of fish and meats so delicate they require almost no chewing.
These strange delicacies were all delivered mysteriously last night. It has been thirteen nights since Eirik went out into the snow. Thirteen long nights since she last saw him. No one saw those mysterious goods arrive. The villagers did not see anything. Their dogs did not sense anything. The gift bearer, whoever he was, did not stay to be thanked or to offer any explanation. Was it all brought by Eirik? She thinks not, because the mountain folk with whom he used to trade with typically have nothing so tender. Besides, her husband would not trust those rogues to make such a delivery on his behalf. This food, food so fine, was from the table of a king, or perhaps even from the Gods. Who knows? Did Eirik manage to strike a bargain with a... God? And if he did, what did it cost him?
Their settlement was just as frightened as impressed by the delivery. Just yesterday, they together decided with her urging to split the food in half; half for them, and the other as an offering to the Gods. After all, Yule is just around the corner. Perhaps by making the sacrifice it could help bring Eirik back to her. The others agreed but showed no serious ambition to help. So yesterday, she herself promptly built a cairn of stones in the middle of the snow covered field and placed the offerings all around and on it. And now this vagabond is sitting here, slowly and deliberately eating the offering.
"My complements, Ragnhild," he says as she approaches.
She becomes dumbstruck by his surprisingly spontaneous demeanor.
"How do you know my ..."
"Yes, it's delicious," he continues, not even bothering to answer her question.
"What do you think you're doing?" Ragnhild blurts. As she comes closer she gets a better look at this upstart of a man. He wears a long blue cape which could have been glorious at one time, but now it is threadbare. He also wears a war helmet, badly dented from one too many battles. He does not seem to be carrying a sword or an axe, but Ragnhild suspects there can be something under his cape. Maybe, a dagger. Or just a knife.
And he has only his left eye, the right being covered with a black leather patch.
"What indeed," he swallows the mouthful of apple before speaking further. "My weary journey has been pretty hard, but, finally, I find nice respite here. And maybe I can also get a place to sleep?"
Ragnhild smashes the ugly stranger on the head with her broom. His helmet tumbles to the ground as he falls out of his sitting position and tumbles forward.
"Ouch!" The man struggles to his knees. "That hurts!"
She whacks him a few more times on his back and butt as he tries to stand up.
"Stop it! Stop it!" he starts to protest. "That hurts! Stupid brainless bitch! Are you crazy? What are you doing that for?"
"Tomorrow ... is ... Yule! This... food... is... a... sacrifice... to... the... Gods!" she spits between whacks. "You are a fool if you don't get it!"
The stranger, now back on his feet, shields himself from her blows with one arm while wiping snow from his face with the other. His figure is imposing, standing around 6 feet 3 inches tall.
"Listen to me, babe! What do you think I am!" he shouts back.
For a couple of moments Ragnhild is flabbergasted. What is he talking about? Can he be a God? After all, the food is here for them. For Gods. No, most likely, he is just a scavenging traveler who fell onto a lucky find by chance. Yet... he can be a God, after all. Who knows? Nobody has ever seen them, but it does not mean they do not exist.
"I don't care who you are! You aren't a God! No, you aren't a God! You can't be a God! Can't! Be! A God!" She whacks him again after inspecting his roughhewn complexion and worn boots. It takes the wanderer a moment to recover from the solid blow, but then he suddenly stands erect looking down at her.
Behind him Ragnhild sees the two rows of mountains on either side of the fjord. The sun is already setting and the sky behind the mountains is a cold mix of purple and black. And then... Something unexplainable happens. Two weird shining objects suddenly fall out the sky leaving a trail of fire in their wake. They cross each other just behind the stranger's head. There is a momentary "X" in the sky above him.
The bizarre objects crash in unison beyond the mountains with a bright flash and a loud rumble. She has once seen such an object crash to the ground in her childhood. And the elders still talk sometimes about what they found at those crash sites. She clearly remembered that one of the discoveries was iron, a valuable prize sent by the Gods, excellent for forging swords. She quickly realizes the rarity of two similar objects falling at the same time. Falling in just such a way as to crown this strange vagabond in a trail of light... This cannot be a mere coincidence, rather a sign. Yes, a sign. A sign sent by...
A God?
All of a sudden, an uneasy maelstrom swirls up in Ragnhild's stomach as she realizes that she just hit a God over the head with her broom. She looks at him as he wipes the last of the snow from his eyes. Then she begins to panic.
She tosses the broom at his face and runs back home to the longhouse as fast as she can, screaming at the top of her lungs for the entire distance. She feels he is breathing down her neck every step of the way. Her imagination is running wild. Surely, he must have turned himself into a bear and now he is gnashing at her heels this very moment. If he is not going to completely disembowel her as an enormous bear then he will surely turn into a wind spirit and afflict her with a severe malady.
Ragnhild reaches the door; her trembling fingers can barely pull it open. No doubt, he is right behind her in the form of a giant dragon staring down on her. Somehow she still manages to pull the door open. She runs in, slams the door behind her and braces herself against it.
She looks for something heavy to bar the door. Anything weighty. But to her horror, as she turns to look, she sees him already inside the house looking back at her with a shrewd grin on his face.
At least, he still looks like a human.
He sits on a pile of straw bedding, her bedding. Slowly, he takes another bite of the apple still in his hand. She stands shaking, unable to move. She feels her legs gradually melting into a pool of lard.
"You know," he swallows the bite, "you've made a grave mistake. The most prudent thing in your situation would be to get on your knees right now and beg for forgiveness. But you have a choice. Don't let me make your mind up for you. You're an adult woman, so you can do whatever you think is right."
With that, the panic washes away from her face because she is given something she has been lacking in this confusing set of events.
Direction.
Ragnhild kneels.
"Good girl. I see that you can be obedient," he says. The apple crunches as he takes another bite. "Well, I'm waiting."
"W-w-w-waiting for what?" she asks, not knowing exactly what she is supposed to do.
"Start begging," he utters with his mouth full. "For forgiveness. Now."
Totally confused, Ragnhild pauses for a couple of moments.
"I ... I ... I'm so... so sorry, oh ... I ... I ... I even don't know your name... W-w-w-what's your name, oh God?"
"Have you noticed I have only one eye? And you don't know my name? I see you're even more ignorant than I thought. I'M ODIN!"
Ragnhild gasps looking stunned.
Odin?!
ODIN?!
"Oh no ..., Oh my God ... I ... I hit You... I hit Odin... The Allfather! I'm so sorry Lord Odin for hitting You with my broom. You ... You see, You just ... just didn't look like a God to me. I would have thought a God..."
"Go on!"
