The Princes

“Father? Why must we do this?” Asked the young wolf to his father as they took soft steps through the forest, bows in hand and watching for doe.

Grimulfr placed his large hand on the young wolf’s shoulder, “We hunt as a rite of passage, son. We hunt not just for your prey but we hunt that which holds you as a child, we shall make you a man by our rites.”

Soon the doe appeared quietly on the other side of the glen, “There, son. Pull your bow and aim true. You have one shot.”

The moonlight lit the entire glen in soft light as the young wolf positioned himself with his bow in hand. He held his one and only arrow upon the string as he held his breath for a moment, making sure his aim was right. The doe looked toward the young man, his hair a dark mess on his head but his sky blue eyes pierced the dark night almost as if twin flames of blue shined from the darkness. The doe wasn’t sure what it saw but knew it must move soon, the doe wasn’t fast enough. The shot rang out and struck true, right where the doe’s heart lay but at first the poor creature didn’t know what had happened as it stumbled and soon fell to the ground. It cried once as its head turned towards the moon then again towards the men in the woods as they watched carefully from afar. Finally as the body shuddered one last time, the young man stepped from the bushes with a soft step towards the doe. “I did it, Father. What is next?”

Grimulfr smiled, “Take your blade and end it so she won’t continue to suffer from our hand.”

The young man did as he was told, he tried to close his eyes so he did not have to see but his father placed his hand on the younger’s hands which held the blade, “You must see. You must understand to take a life to feed another means that this one will never again see those she loved again. It is us or them. We must honor that, if you close your eyes then you show that this life is less than your own.”

The young man nodded solemnly; though he understood why he mustn’t close his eyes, he still winced as he dealt the death blow to the poor doe. A single tear fell from his cheek and onto the deer but his father patted his back, “It is okay, my son. We have all been through this.”

“What do you mean, Father? Who else is here?”

Grimulfr smiled as he waved his hand around them, “Our people, those who came before and those who will come after. They are with us as we are with them. What is now will be then and what is then shall be now. We are one and the same yet varying of one man who we’ve come from but you will learn of this from another.”

“Father?” The young man asked with a confused look on his face.

Grimulfr sighed, “Grimulfr Grimulfsson, you are to be sent away with a vitkar. He shall teach you the ways you must know if you are to fulfill your orlog. Your true destiny. After your celebration, we shall host another for this wandering wizard so he may know he is welcome. You and he are connected so you shall know when he is near. Odin has commanded it so.”

The boy now a man looked confused and immediate sorrow took over, “What have I done, Father? I am sorry but I don’t understand why I am being sent away? What crime have I committed against the gods?”

The father placed his hand on the younger’s head and ruffled his hair, “My boy, you have done nothing wrong. You are to be like me in a way, I am more a warrior but I am in the end a shaman of a sort. You are to be a true shaman, that people I told you of who wandered this land who were tied to the spirits and gods.”

The younger’s eyes glowed brightly as he realized what this was now, “I am going to be initiated?”

Grimulfr shook his head but still had that small smile only his eyes betrayed him, “Not yet, my son. You are to follow this vitki for a tenure of three or four years depending, he will show you the ways you must follow and eventually he shall release you so you may return if that is to be your lot.”

The young man frowned and looked to the ground for a moment then shook his head but looked to his father once more with a look of determination, “I shall do this, Father! I shall become the greatest shaman to make you and the ancestors proud!”

Grimulfr gave a hearty laugh and hugged his son, “I know you will do great, my son. I have always been proud of you and I will continue to be so even into the afterlife. Now it is time we return with our game, we have a celebration to prepare for not just for you but our guest.”

……..

The celebration began as all in attendance, those of the people of Rogaland as well as the king and his band including families, cried in joy as the royal shaman’s son came of age. Grimulfrsson didn’t quite understand why they were all so happy, it was like they had won much during the raids but it was only one man’s birth they celebrated. The young man tapped his father on the shoulder as he was seated on the high seat, not quite as high as the kings but still, “Father, why do they celebrate so vehemently?”

Grimulfr smiled and laughed as he swung his cup of ale, “They celebrate you! The rise of another shaman to carry on our tradition!”

The younger looked curiously at his father, “Why? I don’t understand, I have done nothing to earn this yet.”

Grimulfr rolled his eyes as the king walked to the pair at the head of the grand table moved outdoors for the celebrations, “Brother! When will the vitki arrive? We have been waiting to bring forth the deer and boar we hunted earlier this week. I grow hungry.”

The king always unsettled the young man, only a little though, in a way this mountainous man with teeth like a wolf always unsettled him but he also made him feel safe. This man, the king, was a beast in all respects but he was also the most protective man to his people. Suddenly hands gripped Grimulfsson’s shoulders and shook him violently as a howl came from behind him, “Damn you, Rugalf!”

A raucous laughter came from behind as a young man, maybe a year older than Grimulfsson, with his shining red hair and piercing blue eyes stared at the new man, “Well pay more attention, brother!”

The king, shaking his own bright red hair grinned playfully at Grimulfsson, “You must remember to stay vigilant, where is your wolf blood!”

As the small group laughed, Grimulfsson couldn’t help but feel something was off still and shook his head at the group, “The vitki is close. I don’t think he’ll come near.”

The young man broke the laughter with that one sentence as Grimulfr looked to his son, “Grimulfsson, what makes you say this?”

The man shrugged to his father solemnly but with the same perplexed look on his face, “I don’t know, it’s just like I know it, like I’ve seen it. This feeling is strange.”

The group looked to Grimulfr but he shrugged, “I’m sure he’ll arrive, son.”

The night when on, the games, the great bonfire they lit, even the food they laid out was grand in every respect. Though the vitki never showed, even into the night and as the moon climbed to its apex in the sky, the vitki never arrived. Grimulfsson sat in front of the great bonfire and stared out into the forest that laid just outside of the grand hall. Grimulfr walked to his son with a strange sense of foreboding coming over him, he knew the time drew near but he knew not how he understood this yet. As he walked beside his son, he sat in front of him, choosing to sit on his feet as he stared at the determined young man he raised, “Son, it is time to go home. He isn’t coming.”

“He’ll be here.”

“How do you know this? It has been all night and yet he has not arrived, my dream was wrong, son. Let us return to the comfort of the hall.”

“I can’t do that, Father.”

The man stared sorrowfully at his son, knowing it was time, “You are always welcome home, son. When you are ready, please return and we shall speak of your travels.”

Before he walked away, Grimulfr kissed his son’s forehead as he rose to leave. He turned once more and gave a long look, one of sorrow, one of hope, one of finality, this would be the last time he saw his son. It scared him but Grimulfr knew the gods have a plan for him and it shall be a grand one as long as he follows it to the letter. A single tear ran down his cheek and a sickly cough came from Grimulfr’s lips as he turned to the great fire within the hall as one moment turned to a hundred for the son. One moment he believed that this vitki would be here soon but maybe he was wrong, maybe this feeling meant nothing. He sighed angrily and laid his head on his knees as he pulled his legs into himself, fighting the urge to cry. What did he do? Why is the vitki not here? He did what he was supposed to do he thought, wait why does he cry over that? Grimulfsson lifted his head as he went to stand up but before him stood a tall figure with a dark cloak around himself, it almost blended into the darkness but from under the hood the man saw piercing blue eyes that glowed with a power he’d never known before.

“Who are you?”

The man stared down at the young man, “When you speak to me, you shall be standing if I stand. You are no thrall so quit acting as if you are one.”

The young man stood slowly and gave the hooded figure a dark look, “Who are you.”

The hooded figure smiled as he looked to the hall, “You could have went back but you didn’t, why?”

“I wait for the vitki who is supposed to train me. Now who are you?”

The man pulled his hood from his face and there was an old man with white hair slicked back as his long flowing silver beard swayed as he chuckled, “What is your name, boy!”

“I am called Grimulfsson. You are the vitki?”

“You know the answer to that question, boy. What is your name that your father gave you.”

The young man bristled at being called a boy but he answered slowly, “They call me Grimulfsson because I bear my father’s name, it’d be too confusing if they called me Grimulfr too.”

The vitki chuckled again as he looked down at the young man, “I see no other around. I know my name isn’t Grimulfr so that is what you shall be called for that is your name.”

Grimulfr cocked his head a moment and asked, “Then what is your name, Master vitki?”

The old man, wizened from years of travel and work that no mere mortal could begin to fathom smiled broadly and as if he spoke with power of thunder explained, “I am your master now, Ravensclaw. This you shall call me from now on, you are to be my pupil, Young Grimulfr. Now follow me! We have much to do!”

Master Ravensclaw began to walk away from the now dark grand hall of Grimulfr’s home, he turned once more and gave it a long look as the vitki called again, “Boy! Hurry up! We have no time to lose!”

Grimulfr sighed then ran to catch up to the strange man who was to be his master. After a few days of walking and camping with the vitki, watching intently and doing his best to learn from these strange arts which Master Ravensclaw always insisted they learn together around the fire at the end of the day. Whenever the two wandered the countryside, Grimulfr was made to listen to long lectures and when time came for the vitki to help a village or two then Grimulfr was made to be his assitant and attendant during his rituals. It was a long year before Grimulfr was even allowed to do his own rituals and do his own rites to help others, the vitki showed him not just the ways of his ancestors but taught him of his family’s past.

………

“Boy, do you know of your grandfather?”

Grimulfr shrugged as he attended the fire, making sure it stayed large enough for the small ritual they were to perform for a homestead in Sogn, “Father told me we were born of a strange but powerful bloodline and my grandfather abused our power to be something we weren’t.”

Ravensclaw chuckled at that, “He was right in a way but I believe it is time for you to know the truth of your father and grandfather.”

The young man looked at his master curiously, “I thought you said it wasn’t time for me to know yet. I asked you over and over a week ago.”

Ravensclaw smiled, “That was a month ago, boy. Now listen because I will only explain this once to you as this story is long even if we only focus on your father and grandfather.”

Grimulfr nodded slowly as he sat towards his master, waiting for everything he had to say, “Long ago, your grandfather was the union between an elf woman and a wolf warrior like your king and you friend are. This union was foretold to bring the doom of the black wolf tribe which inadvertently did, your grandfather had to watch his uncle which he did not know was his uncle, kill his father and mother. Your grandfather then began a mission not just to become stronger but to also learn the ways of both his elven and wolf blood so that he may have revenge on the black wolves. His whole childhood was devoted to this one goal which he gained much help from both Odin and a mighty dragon with blood red scales, once the time came your grandfather sought out the black wolves and killed them all. Whole packs would disappear during the night until finally the king of the black wolves came before the young boy, he knew who he was though the boy didn’t so he gave him the revenge he sought. Once your grandfather was done and was on his way to tell the red dragon of his triumph he found his last tie to this world was dead and by the hands of the black wolves before Einulfr could destroy them but-.”

“Einulfr? That was my grandfather’s name?”

Ravensclaw solemnly looked at the young man, realizing his father never told him anything of his lineage, not even their names, “Yes, his name was Einulfr. Your uncle was also named Einulfr.”

“I had no idea.” All Grimulfr could remember of that name was a story his father told of an Einulfr being killed by Jotnar in the mountains because he had lost his way.

“Anyways, after this a man in a dark cloak came to Einulfr and bade him to become his servant and to serve only him for the rest of time. Einulfr agreed because he had nothing left so he did not see the harm but he had made a deal with Odin himeslf, Einulfr became a tool for Odin and still is even in the afterlife. As time went on, Odin had Einulfr go to woman after woman across all the lands in the North and had children with them. Again and again, these woman gave birth to only sons and each of these sons of Einulfr were bade in their dreams to return to the mountain their father resided except for one.”

“My father.”

“Yes your father was to be left with his mother, who was a völva. Your father hated your grandmother but in his defense she always said he wasn’t a true man or warrior even into adulthood so he left as a young boy to find his father. He had no dreams to guide him or even had the help from the gods but he was able to find Einulfr after some time though he would never be truly accepted by any of his blood. Though the dwarf caretaker they had loved him as he would his son but one day Grimulfr’s oldest brother, Einulfr Einulfsson killed the caretaker because he believed him trecherous. Shortly after, the sons of Einulfr were told to go to the woods below the mountain to find Odin, there they were told they had to go to all the kingdoms in the North and follow the King’s, help them grow their kingdoms, and finally to make sure they stay true to Odin. That was your father’s task, was to make sure the kingdom of Rogaland was to be made and to be made in the image of Odin’s plans.”

Grimulfr bristled and grew angry, “Why didn’t my father tell me all this! That is his responsibility as my father!”

Master Ravensclaw grinned wide and chuckled at the young man’s outburst, “My boy, he didn’t tell you because all those people are dead. Jotnar came to destroy the remnants of these kings guides because they continued to aggravate them and I believe your grandfather tried to replicate a tradition that should have stayed dead.”

Grimulfr was puzzled, “What did my grandfather try to do?”

The vitki for once became very serious and looked at Grimulfr with this look of doom and terror, “He tried to raid another world without proper permission or protection.”

………

Hildiríðr was working diligently as her master ordered her to in the kitchen. Her mistress, the Queen Rúna, had ordered her to prepare the meals with the cooks as a guest would be arriving in the next day or so but Hildiríðr wasn’t sure who this was to be as they never told her much after what she tried to do with the shaman’s son. Though if Hildiríðr were honest, she knew that mingling with the class above her was forbidden but she truly did love that boy and hoped that he’d return from his travels soon. She thought him dead when he disappeared that night though she knew Grim wouldn’t be happy once he returned to everything that has changed.

“Thrall! I’ve told you a thousand times to pay attention when you are under my charge!” A heavy slap resounded as the cook hit the girl across the head with his meaty hand. The cook’s wife who regularly helped him in the kitchen flung a wooden spoon at her husband after he slapped the girl. “Leave the poor girl alone! She just lost her father and mother last week! I’m sure she’s still grieving!”

“I don’t give a damn! She is a poor slave and I grow tired of her!”

“Thorinn.”

The chilled tone of the queen rang out like ice grating against ice as the room became as quiet as a tundra, “My lady.”

The slave girl kneeled before her queen and mistress as the cook bowed his head a bit, “My queen, I am sorry for the ruckus. This daft girl wasn’t paying attention again so I was simply show-”

Rúna lifted a finger to her lips to silence the fat cook, “Did I tell you to speak?”

The cook gave his wife a worrying glance, “No, my queen.”

Rúna walked to her thrall and lifted her chin, “Go to the pig pen and make sure they haven’t frozen to death. Gods knows we need every last one when Grimulfr returns from his tutelage.”

As Hildiríðr ran out through the back to the pigs, her eyes welled up with tears as she began to grab a bucket of slop for them. She threw the contents into the pen without thinking as a shout rang through the quiet snow storm, “What in the nine worlds! Is this how the great shaman of Rugalf is to be treated upon his return!”

Before her very eyes stood the boy, no the man who made her believe in light and goodness, that through any hardship was a better tomorrow, “Grimulfr?”

Grimulfr gave a grimace towards the slave girl, “Hildiríðr. I see you are still as oblivious as ever.”

The girl looked down at her feet and apologized to Grimulfr though a very thinly veiled glow of excitement came over her knowing that he was alive and well, “Hildiríðr? Hildiríðr! For gods sakes, Hildi!”

The girl shook her head as she left her fantasies for a moment, “What? I’m sorry.”

Grimulfr rolled his eyes and patted the girl on the head, “It is alright, you only splashed my perfectly good cloak. Show me inside so I can see my father and make sure to clean my cloak up now that it’s covered in slop.”

The slave girl shed a single tear as Grimulfr walked towards her, “I’m sorry, Grim. Your father is dead, he’s been dead for a month.”

Grimulfr stopped in his tracks, though the snow and ice came down around him making him seem almost like a statue, the look of pure fury that crossed his face made it seem as though he could burn even the sun itself. He stomped his way into the great hall, through the halls and through the dining hall and finally into the kitchen where Rúna was beating the cook with a mallet. “Where is my father buried! Or was he burned as is his right!”

For once Rúna’s icy demeanor shed at the sight of Grimulfr, his long black hair that mixed with the darkness but his eyes that shined like two azure pools in the shadows made her shiver mid swing, “He was burned by my husband, the king.”

“Garðr is king.” Grimulfr stated angrily.

“Garðr died a fortnight ago. Now his son, my husband is king. You are now the King’s shaman, Grimulfr. Welcome home.” Rúna stated not as much in her usual cold tone but rather as a matter of fact as the realizations dawned on Grimulfr. He was no longer some boy fresh to being a man, his duties begun now and he was to be more than his father was. As the royalty and nobility talked amongst themselves, all Hildiríðr could do was stand behind her old flame and wonder. Will she be his woman like he promised or would she have to be his secret once again, will there be a future with him even? All the poor girl could do was continue to cry as the realizations dawned on her as well.