The Frenzy of Love & War

The Stranger

Turid was in the kitchen overseeing the slaves, and servants when Hedda peaked in through the doorway. She looked over the meat being butchered and made sure there was plenty of mead. 

“Good thing we have been preparing Bera.” Turid was wringing her hands shifting her hands rapidly. 

“Yes. This isn’t my first return celebration ma’am” Bera, who was in charge of the kitchen, was kneading bread. 

Turid looked at her and pursed her lips “I supposed I should be grateful for you then?” Some venom in her tone. 

Bera stopped kneading and faced Turid eyes downcast “No ma’am. I am happy to be able to assist you.” 

Turid crossed her arms, turned on her heel, and left the room. Hedda entered as soon as she left the room. Bera was muttering in her native language under her breathe when Hedda stopped next to her.

“Mmm what was that you were saying?” Hedda asked.

Bera glanced sideways and continued her kneading. Hedda smiled, picking up a piece of bread and biting into it.

Bera was a slave from a raid Hedda’s father went on before her mother died. Her father took her as a friend for her mother since the other nobility struggled to accept her. Bera means spirited and spirited she was. 

“Your new mother…” Bera started.

Hedda stopped chewing narrowing her eyes at her.

Bera chuckled “Turid is interesting in the way she manages affairs here. But she is still learning.”

“She doesn’t deserve any understanding or sympathy. So what are we eating tonight?” Hedda asked changing the subject. 

“Lamb, goat, and beef” Not looking up from her kneading. 

Hedda paused “Are they...all butchered?” She tried to ask nonchalantly. 

“Dear, what do you need? I can handle dinner arrangement myself.”

“I know, I know. But I need...the heart of one that isn’t dead yet” 

Bera paused “Why?” She eyed Hedda. 

“Bera please.” 

“Does this have anything to do that witch?” 

Hedda got upset at this. Volva’s were a normal part of Viking culture, and Bera always thought it was bad. She slammed her fist on the table making all the slaves flinch and pause. “Bera, I am not asking.” Hedda felt ashamed for treating Bera this way, but she was a slave, not her mother, and Hedda was doing nothing wrong. 

Bera furrowed her brow and without looking up responded “The goats are around the corner. When you are done bring it inside.” 

Hedda nodded and walked out. She saw five goats and picked her victim. She made quick work of it and once she skinned it she brought it in the kitchen, heart in hand. No one acknowledged her, as she entered then left again. Hedda made her way back to Ragna’s house. 

When she entered and got used to the incense she saw Ragna sitting with her hand outstretched. 

Hedda was hesitant. She was about to venture into a part of her culture that she hasn’t done before. Looking into her fate was a natural thing to do. Before a battle, or big decisions. She was nervous that her fate might not match her desires. 

A smile crept onto Ragna’s face like she could read Hedda’s mind “Don’t waste my time girl. The God’s won’t wait for you to be ready.” 

Hedda placed the heart in Ragna’s hand and in one motion Ragna bit into it. The blood ran down her face, and the still-warm heart was still in her hand. Her head fell backward, she began chanting, and her eyes rolled back into her head. 

Hedda’s breathe caught in her throat, taken aback by the scene in front of her. After a few minutes of this meditation. Ragna gasped for air and made eye contact with Hedda. Her eyes were wide. 

“Hedda, Hedda, Hedda” Ragna laughed out loud. “The Norns have a weaved a fate fit for a queen. You yearn for more experience as a shieldmaiden, and you will get it, sooner than you might expect. But…”

“But what?” Hedda’s heart jumped into her throat with what Ragna revealed to her. 

“Your losses are not over daughter of Sandvik. You will lose everything before you gain everything. You must pay the price for greatness.” Ragna stood up and started moving about the room. 

Hedda watched the women closely, following her “What do you mean lose everything?”

Ragna didn’t stop picking things up as she answered Hedda “It is your fate that can’t be changed. It is no use telling you, you must come to terms that your life will change before you get what you want.” 

Hedda stopped knowing full well that she couldn’t change her fate. What the Norns have weaved would come to pass no matter what she might do to change it. Soon she noticed that Ragna was packing. “What are you doing?” 

Ragna didn’t respond as she was rolling furs and collecting talismans. 

“Volva, where are you going? We have a celebration tonight for the return of our warriors.” 

Ragna looked at Hedda with knowing eyes “I have to get a head start. Go enjoy the night while you can…” Ragna turned away and continued methodically packing things. It looked like this wasn’t the first time she had done this, Hedda observed. 

Confused but satisfied Hedda left making her way back up to the Mead Hall. The night was falling and her attendance was needed to show support to their warriors.

She still had questions, but she knew she would never understand how the gods operated. She needed to accept whatever lies in wait ahead of her. 

She saw the Mead Hall up ahead already filled with people. She noticed a large figure went through the front door and the revelry seemed to die down. She made her way to the front door and slipped in. Her father seemed to be addressing someone directly and everyone was in silence listening. 

Hedda walked along the walls around the mead hall trying to see who her father was addressing. As she got closer to the front she noticed a tall, muscular figure standing alone in front of her father and Turid. Unn was on the stairs, looking bewildered. She slowed down taking him in, but she didn’t recognize him. Everything became muffled as she made her way to the front not taking her eyes off the, who she thought now, was a visitor. As soon as she could see his face, she realized who this man was, or rather what he was. He carried just an ax and looked road-worn. On his back was a bearskin, with the head resting on top of his own human head.

Hedda was in the presence of a berserker.