1) First Kill

A moment of rage. A first kill. A life torn asunder.

I sat near the river when everything changed. I thought myself a man then, but in truth I had not fully outgrown boyhood. Despite the fact that I carried my own seax and trained with the axe I still played boyish games down in the river. I still drew pictures in the frost with my finger. Despite my precocious age, I would be expected to stand in the shield wall, even if at the back at first. Yet I would still go play when fighting (and the chores) were done.

I had a line in the river, relaxed, with hopes of bringing a fish home. I'd spun the line the previous winter out of fibrous plants and cat gut. My mind wandered while I waited for a bite; mostly it mostly wandered to thoughts of Emma. She lived in the same village and had been the twinkle in my eye since we were children. We trained together on weapons, and we dreamed of the day we'd fight side by side in the shield wall. I'd known since I was in short pants that someday she would be my bride. I could imagine no happier life. The Norns must have laughed as they threw my thread into the air, and everything woven with it came apart.

A twig snapped.

Instantly I came back to the present. Fortunately, a man hadn't made the sound. No raiding horde snuck up on the village today. Instead, it was perhaps worse. I looked over and saw it; shaggy grey fur, fangs protruding from its gaping maw, claws digging into the cold earth, and a hint of steam emerging with each breath. A wolf. Huge. Its head must have reached my shoulders.

I dropped the fishing line and slowly backed away until I bumped up against the trunk of a large fir. A rustling overhead distracted me, but it was merely a raven landing on a lower branch. While I looked up the wolf stalked closer. Its eyes locked onto me as it took each step, advancing towards me. I tried to yell but my throat had dried, and no sound emerged. The wolf growled; it sounded almost human. It even seemed to smile through those yellow teeth. I could have sworn it snarled "go home, boy" at me. It kept padding closer and it snarled again. I could smell its fetid breath. It growled again and again the hint of words mixed in; "go home, boy." Was this merely a wolf, or was it a varg? Worse, was it Freki or Geri, the vags of Odin himself?

Shaking, I drew my seax. Sure, I'd hunted meat before but never had I bloodied my blade in a fight. The varg took another step and in panic I lashed out. I would love to say I made a calculated stroke, aimed for some vital killing spot, but no. I forgot everything I learned, squinted, off balance, and lashed out like a little girl. Yet the varg bellowed, pain in its voice now, and bound away. I didn't realize I'd made contact, but there was blood on the tip of the seax. My chest swelled with pride, for I'd wiped the smile off the beast's face and driven it off.

I didn't clean the blade. Instead, I kept it in my hand and ran back to the village waiving it the blade along the way like some fool. Like a child, really. I'm lucky I didn't trip and impale myself upon it. I couldn't wait to show Emma. And my father. Mostly Emma, but my father as well. It wasn't a kill, but I had bloodied my blade in a real fight.

As I ran to the village I saw Emma outside the stable talking to a man. It was Rolf, The Earl's right-hand man. I didn't care. I interrupted and handed her the seax. At least I had the presence of mind to offer her the handle, not the blade. I could barely speak in my excitement.

"Wolf! No, Varg! Slashed! It ran off!" Only clipped phrases emerged from my mouth.

She examined the blade and smiled. I saw the pride in her face at that moment it was all that mattered in the entire world.

"I have news of my own," she said. Something about it put me on guard.

"You know Rolf, of course. He is here to take me to The Earl's longhouse where we are to be wed."

"What?

"He does me great honor."

"No!"

"Be happy for me."

"But you are to be my wife! We've dreamed of this our whole lives!"

"We probably could have had a happy life. But am chosen to marry rich warrior. The right hand of The Earl. Rolf may become an Earl himself someday."

I don't have any memory of what happened next. I know rage coursed through my veins. I turned to Rolf. He carried a sword; the blade meant to impress, and it did. Nobody in our entire village could afford a sword. We fought with seax and axe. The ostentatious blade summarized everything Rolf was, and all I desired to achieve. For the first time, I felt what I would later describe as battle-rage. I reached for his belt and drew his sword against him. Stunned, he didn't move to stop me.

"Enough, boy..." he began.

I had not had enough. I stepped forward and lunged, like I'd been trained with wooden dowels. It's amazing how much lighter an actual sword was than the training sticks. Perhaps he didn't believe I would strike? Did actually intend to do it? Regardless, Rolf never moved to defend himself and the blade entered point first into his unprotected throat. The crimson fountain bathed us both and he fell to the dirt beside the stable.

Emma fled. Her skirt rose up above her ankles in the breeze as she ran for home.

I dropped the sword, deflated. I stood there silent and watched him fade, never imagining my first kill would happen like this.

In a daze, I drifted home. My father would return from the fields shortly. I could do nothing but wait. It didn't take long. Word travelled fast, and he walked in shortly after I did.

"Is it true, Thorgrim?" He asked me.

I nodded.

"You killed the Earl's man?"

I nodded again. I couldn't speak. I couldn't even look him in the eyes.

"Then you're a bloody fool. You'll have to go. You can't stay here anymore."

Now I looked up, puzzled.

"The Earl will have you killed if he finds you here. And who knows what punishment he will have for me. You're an outlaw now in all but name, and that part will change once the Earl hears of this. I no longer have a son, and you no longer have a home, but you'll at least be alive. Get your things and I'll pack you a bag of food."

I didn't have much to gather. A pack, a change of clothes, my seax, and a few other items. I grabbed an axe off a peg on the wall and my father frowned but didn't say anything. He just offered me the bag of food, put his hand on my shoulder, pointed outside and said "go."

"Where?" I finally asked.

"Anywhere. Just don't tell me. And whatever you do don't tell that fool of a girl. You've already ruined your life over her. If you tell no one, then The Earl can't force it out of anyone."

"Remember, boy, you're an outlaw now. Think about what all that means. Be careful; The Earl won't let you live in peace. He'll send his men after you."

I left at a walk, unknowing and uncaring where I went. My father watched from the doorway, stoic. My mother died in childbirth, so he had no one else. His entire family walked away that day.

Once the Earl declared me an outlaw, I was literally that. An outcast. Cast outside the law. I no longer had the protection of The Earl, or any other Lord for that matter. I had no rights. If someone wanted to take my possessions, legally they could, and I could not try to stop them. After all, I owned those things only by the grace of the Earl. If they killed me the law did not consider it murder. The Earl's justice ended, and I was outside its realm; literally outside the law. If they wanted to rape me, I had no legal protection. I patted the axe and thought but let them try.

I now walked alone in the world, a nomad without a home. I no longer even had a father. I'd been disowned and was now no man's son.

I only made one stop on my way out of the village. I stopped at the stable and picked up Rolf's sword. His body had stiffened, and I had to work to remove his belt and sheath. The blade was not fancy, but well made, and I would need it. After that, I left. Destination unknown. Just north. There would be shelter in the mountains if the coming winter didn't kill me. The greater threat would be The Earl's men. I had a day or so, but his feeders of ravens would ride hard and fast on my trail. These were Rolf's friends, his battle brothers. They rode to avenge one of their own. There would be no talk. They would return with Rolf's sword or fall with Rolf's sword in their bellies.

Overhead, the raven still flew. Somehow, I felt that it was the same one which watched me fight the varg. I believe Hrafnaguð himself looked down to me. Was he guarding me? Or seeking vengeance for taking his man? I looked up in return and made a vow. This would not be the last of me. The world could abandon me, but one day I will have my revenge.

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1664 Words