RavenWolf

"The winds of winter guard my home, swirling and surrounding me in a shield of nature itself. No beasts hunt in the rifts of the mountains, save for the Jötnar. Thus, with the tales of giants, no man dare venture here. My home between stone is the only haven on the edge of Midgard; defended by the chaos of nature and the fear of myth. No man could find me here." The Norseman sighed. "I did not prepare for guests, young Valkyrie."

The Norseman sat at the back of the cave illuminated by the curling flames of a campfire. His face was shadowed by long strands of grey hair, yet his eyes pierced through the darkness as they reflected the flames. The pelt of a wolf hung around him in a makeshift cloak. The crescent head of an axe rested in his left hand; daring to bite the flesh that held it. With his free hand, he gestured for his unexpected visitor to sit. In the firelight, the runes marked deep in his arm seemed to gleam with a forbidden glow. 

The stranger moved cautiously, spear forward, towards the warmth of the fire. Her posture remained poised for a fight as she approached.  The tips of her fingers were nearly blue, yet she held the spear firmly, nonetheless. Her hands stung as they regained a fragment of feeling. Drops of melted snow lined the path of her careful approach. Her gaze darted here and there searching for danger. Though her wind tossed black hair tempted to blind her in her search, she didn't risk any movement to fix it. The howling of wind echoed in the cavern reminding the stranger of the cold fate awaiting outside.

"Sit and rest, little raven," The Norseman's words caused the stranger to stop mid-step. "Sit. I will not harm the sent ones of Odin."

"Does one expect a raven to trust the words of a wolf?" She said. The Norseman's shoulders fell, as if he remembered what should have remained forgotten. Moments passed in stillness, until the Norseman added a log to the flames sending hungry tongues of fire into a frenzy. A fresh wave of smoke filled the air with the scent of ash and embers. 

"Perhaps one would dare trust the words of a warrior." The Norseman said. "One bound by honor."

"And where is your proof?" She said. The Norseman sighed. Closing his eyes, he began to mutter in a language the stranger did not understand. Slowly he moved his hand and with his ring finger he touched his forehead. He slowly swung his hand down and to the side, like that of a salute before bringing his hand back up. He stopped muttering and without hesitation he bit the back of his hand. Spitting off to the side, he held the back of his hand up, towards the stranger, until blood began to run down it. The blood traced the edges of the runes on his arm before dripping off his elbow.

"By my blood, I will not harm you," The Norseman said. "Sit and rest, little raven."

The stranger sat down by the fire, but the spear remained in her grasp pointed at the Norseman. He took little notice of this and instead stoked the fire. The stranger waited for the Norseman to speak, but he remained silent with a vacant gaze at the fire.

"Are you the one they call 'the Winter Wolf'?" she said.

He grunted approval.

"Were you indeed the Berserker of Baldurfall?"

He grunted approval.

"Will you fight for us?" 

The Norseman turned and faced the stranger. "I am not a corpse for the halls of Valhalla, nor will I die a death worthy of it."

"No, I ask if you will fight?" she said. "For my people, my village."

The Norseman was silent as the wind howled louder than before. The fire flickered and licked at the blood stained armed of the Norseman. He remained unmoving staring the stranger down.

 "What is this? The raven has shed its feathers and become the wolf. Speak." The stranger sat silent in shock. "You appear as a Valkyrie yet speak of a village you call yours. Your words betray you spawn of Loki, speak true or begone. "

The stranger stumbled over her words for a moment. The Norseman neither moved nor spoke but remained focused intently on the stranger. She finally regained her wits and replied.

"Winter Wolf, I am from the village of Tyrbreath, a 7 day's journey from here. My brother-" Her voice cracked as she held back tears. "My brother was taken by Jötnar. No one believes me, and more of us are taken every night. Please, we need a warrior to help us." 

The Norseman shook his head.

"No?" she said at the brink of despair. "Please, we will all be taken if you do not help us!"

The Norseman held up his hand to stop her from talking. "Does the raven beg for the life of the worm it eats? Why then should it beg for its life in the teeth of the wolf? They do not believe it was Jötnar, then they die in unbelief."

"Are their lives unworthy because of their unbelief?"

"They know not of Jötnar. How can they fight what they do not know?"

"This is why we need you Winter Wolf." she said.

"I cannot risk an honorable death." 

"You are a warrior!" She yelled. "You were empowered by the gods as a berserker! Do you now defy them by condemning yourself to Helheim?!"

The Norseman was silent and turned back to the fire. The stranger held back a scream of frustration. Her spear clattered to the ground, and she covered her face with her hands. The howling of the wind filled the cave once more. 

"Why don't you fight?" she said, her words muffled by her hands. The Norseman added more fuel to the fire.

"Listen and I will speak." The stranger uncovered her face as the Norseman spoke. "I was a warrior, yes. I have seen many brothers die in my arms, and I have seen many foes dead by my hand. It is true, I fought as if filled with divine power. I tell you this, it was madness not power that filled me. Mind eating rage for the fallen that guided my blade. No more do I wish to take life in madness. Even if I did fight, your people do not fear Jötnar, they know not the myths of old. If they know nothing, how are they any more than beasts waiting for slaughter? Still, I have fought to protect sheep and goats. I can fight to protect witless men. Yet I cannot. It is not honorable to Odin to protect sheep and goats, but it is honorable to fight to protect men. And I cannot risk an honorable death. Why? I will tell you. For at Ragnarök the chosen fallen in Valhalla will fight the dishonorable dead of Hel. I cannot fight the dead, for among them is one I love. You may wonder then if I intend to defy Odin and fight alongside my love. No. For I will find her in the crowds of Helheim and we will pull ourselves out of Hel by the root of Yggdrasil and wander the mists of Niflheim until second death. I have become hunter and sojourner. I will learn to wander so that I may wander in the next life. I will die here where no Valkyrie will find me. I cannot risk being chosen for Valhalla, or I risk failing to save my love."  

The stranger and the Norseman sat in silence, though the wind echoed throughout the cave. The stranger stared at the fire, deep in thought as if taking in all she heard. Then she spoke.

"I do not understand what it is to be a warrior, nor do I know much of the old myths. I can understand the lengths you choose to go for someone you love. I am here on behalf of my brother, so I understand that you cannot risk a worthy death." She carefully weighed her next words. "Can you risk honor to train me as a warrior?"

The Norseman thought deeply for a moment. 

"Yes, little raven. I will sharpen your talons."