The Last Viking

Sitting on his bed made of soft forest moss and pine, Ulf finally removed his helmet. After such a brutal day his ears were still ringing a little. The sounds of sword on sword and axe on armor reminded him of this day's journey. Gingerly removing his chest armor to protect bruised ribs, Ulf let out a howl fitting for his name, the wolf. Glancing up at the carving hanging on the wall, Ulf noted the wolves Geri and Freki sitting at Odin’s side.

His heritage strengthened his heart and soul this day. Raised in a hut of sorts but really more like a barn, Ulf remembered the sounds of the barn owls that lived in the rafters. Always searching with eyes alert, their heads swiveling back and forth the two owls watched over the family home. No rodents or vermin lived for long inside or close by outside the dwelling. And Ulf’s mother Hilda was always talking to the barn owls, sometimes in literal words and sometimes in silent contact. The two owls would perch on either shoulder as she worked throughout the barn.

Ulf remembered now that Hilda was as much a fighter as his father, Torsten, ever was. Thinking back to his early training he could almost see how Hilda wielded the long sword fighting beside his father with his hammer and shield. Running fingers gently over his bruised ribs he could still feel the scars from his mother’s blade. “All in good time young Ulf, you will learn to avoid my blade.” He could still hear his mother chiding him in his early lessons.

One thing he got from his father’s training was uncommon strength. Starting at a very early age, Ulf learned to lift the heavy hammers and wield them in battle. Remembering fighting with his brothers and sisters now, Ulf’s mouth turned into a sly grin. From when he was about 10 years old, Ulf could use the heavy battle hammers almost as expertly as his father. And when no one was watching, Ulf would practice over and over. Swinging the hammers over his head then crashing down onto the helpless pieces of log countless woodpiles were summarily destroyed.

The screeching barn owls above his head interrupted Ulf’s reverie. Bringing him instantly out of his remembering he reached for the hammer he’d left on the table. His mother Hilda showed him how to listen to the various noises made by barn owls. She knew them intimately and would always coach him on each version of their screeches. This one was when hunting, that one was calling its mate, and this other one was a warning. What Ulf heard now was the warning hiss or screech.

Quietly standing, hammer in hand Ulf faced the open door to his forest hut. He’d built this place deep in the forest for several reasons. It was far enough away from villages and travel paths that Ulf could get some sense of safety. And it had a high enough ceiling that the barn owls could live in the rafters. These two owls were a gift from his mother.

Instantly because of the barn owl warning Ulf knew that whoever or whatever was approaching his hut was not a friend. There were no other Vikings or Norsemen close by. And none of the others would be invited back to his place to recover from the day’s fighting. Ulf was alone by those measures and he reminded himself now that he’d chosen to live this way.

Silently gliding on air, one of the barn owls landed on his right shoulder. He glanced over at it and saw the owl’s eyes blink several times. His mother had explained that the blinking was a sign from the barn owl to watch out. There was something worth capturing or eating nearby. If the barn owl stared at him with open eyes then Ulf would have perceived no threat. But blinking owl eyes were a double warning following the hissing screech.

Ulf heard the pressure of something moving outside his door. Something or someone was trying to walk softly on the forest floor of leaves and fallen twigs. His finely trained senses though picked up the slightest sounds. Tracking the barely audible pattern Ulf could tell the intruder was moving closer to the opening in the hut wall.

Gliding silently across the hard-packed earthen floor of his hut, Ulf held the hammer at the ready willing to attack whatever or whoever was out there. Careful to look away from the fire in the fireplace Ulf’s eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness near the door. Then the barn owl on his shoulder was suddenly airborne flying directly out the door. With the rush of wind and movement from the owl, Ulf followed swiftly breeching the open space.

The barn owl led Ulf outside flapping its wings fully extended. With a wingspan just under 110 cm or about 4 feet, the owl presented a daunting image. Screeching and hissing at the same time, Ulf knew instinctively that whatever was out there would be surprised and off guard. Before the intruder could react Ulf launched himself in the direction of the flapping owl, hammer raised.

Ulf paused for what seemed to him like minutes but in reality was only a few seconds. Standing before him was a warrior that was clear enough. Shield held at shoulder height lance raised with the sharpened barbs pointing straight at him. In that brief few seconds he could see the horse behind in full battle gear helmet and breastplate for protection. The fact that this was a woman gradually seeped into his full awareness.

He slowly lowered his battle hammer to his side and stood just outside the door to the hut. The warrior woman had long red hair, dark green almost brown eyes, and blue tattoos or runes on her face, arms and what he could see of her chest and legs. Ulf didn’t know the meaning of all the tattoos but he well understood the look in her eyes. She was hungry and would fight for food before asking. He also noticed the slight points on her ears showing underneath her pulled back hair.

She looked as if she too had been fighting all day but didn’t know it was time to quit. She lifted her nose to the wind and sniffed in the smell of Ulf’s cooking on the open fire inside the hut. Still pointing her lance at him, she dropped the reins of her horse and made a motion with her free hand as if putting food in her mouth. The scowl on her face never changed but her open mouth began to chew the fake food as if to say, “I’m hungry.”

Looking her over again Ulf noticed two bleeding cuts from today’s battles. They were more like seeping now not bleeding profusely. Ulf thought to himself how much the body can endure and still try to heal itself even the most drastic battle wounds.

It was at that very moment, much to his surprise that the barn owl who had led him out here suddenly flew from behind this warrior woman and landed on her right shoulder. Without taking her eyes off him and steadying her lance the woman softly said something to the barn owl. Ulf couldn’t understand the words but he could intuit the owl’s reaction. Being a barn owl he knew from his mother that the bird would have attacked if this woman was dangerous to him.

Ulf made a similar motion bringing his free hand to his mouth and pretending to eat something. Then he pointed inside the hut door as if to say, “In there. Food is in there.” Still a bit wary and not wanting to engage after a long day of fighting Ulf turned and started to go back inside the hut. The woman said something else to the barn owl and it flew back inside just ahead of Ulf as he walked through the door.

The woman stayed outside for a few moments longer. Ulf could hear the horse whinny slightly then quietly start eating grass. In the early evening dusk, the forest was nearly silent expect for the horses chewing and slight movements back and forth.

Ulf never turned his back to the door but started filling two plates with food. Scooping meat and broth from the pot over the fire he added bread to each. Placing them on the crude table Ulf was just sitting down when the woman came into the hut. She still held her lance but seeing the food at the table she leaned it against the wall close to the door. And being the same sort of cautious she could see Ulf’s hammer leaning against the bench he was sitting on.

She walked to the other bench and sat in front of the other plate. Ulf had already started eating putting meat and bread in his mouth, barely chewing and washing it all down with gulps of strong ale from the drinking horn in front of him. Without lowering her gaze the warrior woman began eating and drinking. Her manners were similar to Ulf’s. Taking advantage of the relative calm inside the hut and Ulf’s focus on his food, she managed to keep pace finishing her plate and ale just a moment after he did.

Watching her closely, Ulf picked up two remaining pieces of meat and rose from the table. She noticed these pieces were almost bloody and had hardly been cooked if at all. He placed the meat in shallow bowls then raised them onto a small platform just under the rafters of the hut. When he was finished the two barn owls dropped to their perches and began to tear at the meat. Ulf thought to himself that the two owls enjoyed their meal almost as much as he and this woman had.

She was draining the last of the ale from her drinking horn and for that brief moment she wasn’t watching Ulf. So he took that moment to look her over again to see if he could figure out who or what she was. Ale dribbled slightly down her chin past two blue tattoos that ran from her chin up her jaw line. The red hair was long and thick and tied into one long braid. She had pulled the braid around one shoulder so Ulf could see that her hair was long enough to reach the bottom of her stomach or top of her hips when sitting.

Slamming the drinking horn down on the table she glared at Ulf almost like she could hypnotize him with her dark green eyes. He almost grinned at her attempt to be threatening but only one corner of his mouth turned up slightly. She fixed him in her gaze still more like a glare and started to stand up from the table. Ulf motioned with his hand for her to sit back down and then pointed at places under his ribs then at her. She felt with her fingers and found the oozing bloody cuts. Without looking away from Ulf he got just a flicker behind her eyes. That flicker he recognized as battle pain.

Ulf went to the small bucket at one edge of the hut and filled a bowl with water. This was clean rain water from the past few days and Ulf knew it would be helpful in cleaning her wounds. Next he gathered white cloth like the kind his mother Hilda has used as bandages plus a small bowl of what looked like moss. As he approached the table she looked at everything he was carrying and seemed to understand what he was doing. At least he thought she understood he told himself making his way to the table.

Ulf set the materials down in front of her and took a measured step back. Waiting to see what she would do he did his best to demonstrate with his hands. Pointing to the bowl of water and picking up a small piece of the white cloth he mimicked dipping the cloth in water and rubbing it across his lower ribs. Her look didn’t change and she still fixed him with her eyes. But she picked up a piece of white cloth, dipped in water and started to clean her wounds. Ulf could see her wince as the damp cloth ran across the cuts cleaning but also soaking up some of the oozing blood.

Next she picked up the bowl of dark moss-like material and lifted it to her nose. The smell was strong and she quickly drew her head back and dropped the bowl back on the table. Ulf moved just enough closer to reach the water and the moss. Dripping water onto the moss he used his fingers to make a mud-like consistency. He held his face to the side as he too reacted to the smell.

When ready Ulf picked up a small amount of the poultice and applied it to one of the healing cuts below his ribs. He knew that he didn’t really need it but chose to still demonstrate on himself rather than risk the reaction of trying to cover her wounds. She nodded curtly and picked up some of the poultice applying it to both cuts under her ribs. One cut was deeper and needed a second application.

Ulf saw that the pain must have been intense because she winced again and closed her eyes. No sound emerged from her lips but he could see her body tense up. As the poultice did its work she relaxed slightly. And her eyes flew open to glare at him again.

Next Ulf demonstrated how he would wrap cloth around over the medicine to keep it in place over the battle wounds. She took the cloth from the table and wrapped around her ribs behind her back and around again. The bandage looked to Ulf like it was tight enough to hold. So he picked up the two bowls and remaining cloth and walked them back across the hut to empty them out.

When he was nearly to the rain barrel he suddenly heard the horse making snorting noises stamping the ground outside. And only a few seconds later both barn owls began to screech and hiss. In an instant Ulf’s body was on high alert. He dropped the bowls onto the hard packed earthen floor making only a little noise. Then he immediately stepped back to the table and bench and picked up his hammer.

Without any urging, his guest had glided to the wall nearest the door to the hut and picked up her lance and shield. She stood facing the open door waiting silently. Ulf got a glimpse of the raw energy and warrior training as he watched her movements and the open door at the same time. Raising his hammer to battle height Ulf glided toward the open door waiting to hear more noise or catch sight of any intruders.

True to their nature the barn owls flew down from the rafters. Screeching and hissing flapping their wings they headed for the open door swirling the air past Ulf’s head. He didn’t have time to put his helmet on so felt the whoosh of wind as the owls sailed past.

The redheaded warrior woman with blue tattoos took in the scene with those dark green eyes afire. One of the barn owls landed on her right shoulder while the other one went out the open door. Ulf looked over in surprise as the owl landed on her shoulder then noticed her saying something to the owl. The bird stared at him blinking issuing its warning. He hadn’t seen a connection like that since his mother had died in battle standing beside his father. But in an instant he recovered and continued toward the open door, battle hammer ready to strike.

All of his senses were alert and as he approached the door he heard the horse making more noise. Ulf knew from his battle experience that the element of surprise was crucial. So he started to sing his death song as he stepped through the open door.

“The blood of my father’s spilled before me

The blood of my mother’s spilled before me

Strengthen me now as you call my name

Over the line of my brothers and sisters

Who have all gone before me

Calling me to Valhalla once more”

At that moment he could hear her voice singing words he couldn’t understand. But he knew that warrior song and felt the tune deep in his soul. This one would be a woman worthy of fighting beside. She followed close behind him through the open door.

In the early evening light Ulf could see two, no three approaching men. They were much smaller than him and in fact much smaller than his new found redhead. The three formed a semi-circle of sorts and started to approach the two of them as they came out of the hut. At that point the second barn owl swooped down wings fully extended screeching and hissing. The bird shocked the three encroachers so much that they froze in their tracks. This would prove to be their undoing.

Not hesitating, Ulf ran between two of them swinging his battle hammer with deadly force. The redhead used her lance to immediately take care of the third. With no harm to themselves the two – Viking and redheaded Pict – had dispatched the intruders to whatever afterlife they were bound for.

Ulf knew it was over almost instantly. As much as he wanted to see who these men were and see if they had any useful weapons or armor he erred on the side of caution. Motioning for his companion to return to the hut, Ulf himself started in that direction. Seeming to reinforce his decision the barn owl in flight returned to the hut flying up to its perch in the rafters. The other owl was still on her shoulders now staring at Ulf, not blinking. He took that to be a signal that the immediate danger had passed.

Watching her return inside the hut, Ulf did take one precaution. He dragged the bodies of the three dead men out further into the trees and put them into a small depression in the earth. Covering them with leaves he thought to himself that tomorrow would be soon enough to rid themselves of the bodies. A funeral pyre would not be unusual for this island and he full expected to get rid of these three in that fashion.

Ulf knew he was on the main island of the Orkenyjar chain. Many called this main island Hrossey or Horse Island. Ulf believed any remaining threat from intruders would be minimal throughout the night. Tallying in his head he counted the damage he’d done during the day’s battle adding these three to that total. For any more of these men to attack tonight would risk further losses. Ulf hoped they understood how catastrophic that would be for any contemplating an additional attack during the night.

Ulf worked his way back to the hut carefully in the darkness now covering the forest. Some moonlight filtered through the trees but only just enough to help him make out shapes of trees and rocks. Stepping lightly hammer at his side he found the horse close to the hut. He stroked its neck and led it to a more sheltered location close to the side of the hut. The horse seemed to feel his intentions and nudged him slightly in the shoulder. Nearly smiling Ulf tied its halter rope to a tree, leaving plenty of slack so the horse could lower its head and eat or drink as needed.

He worked his way back to the front of the hut pausing before entering the open door. For the first time in a very long while he felt alone. If any of his Viking brothers or relatives were with him they would spend the night drinking and telling battle stories. He knew nearly all of those stories having heard them so many times. And now he could add new ones from today’s battle and tonight’s defense. But he thought to himself “I am the Last Viking” and will have to remember our stories to help keep them alive. Stepping inside the hut he started ticking off the names of his friends, brothers, sisters and companions out loud … “Harald, Gorm, Ragnar, Floki, Arne, Sten, Knud, Leif, Astrid, Gertrud, Sigrid, Revna… you are not forgotten.”

His voice grew louder expressing his grief, aloneness and rage at being “The Last”. Leaning the handle of his hammer against the wall close to the door, he looked around until his eyes caught the redhead staring at him. Then her voice joined his and he could feel their combined grief, singing names of those who left this world before them.

He listened to her voice and understood her names… “Aislin, Avalon, Brianna, Coblaith, Aidan, Angus, Bedwyr, Caedmon…” then her singing words were lost to him. But the grief and loss she felt he could understand. So he continued singing his own words doing his best to match her tone and tempo.

They looked at each other, tears streaming down their faces, feeling their grief pass in mourning through song and story. The barn owls seemed to understand as well, quiet on their perches high in the rafters.

(To be continued)

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The author discovered during his own DNA research that his closest ancient relatives are Vikings (Swedish, Danish and Russian) and Picts. Matching includes 90% matches with Floki's group in Iceland. The ancient geography that most closely matches with the author's DNA is the current day islands of Orkney, making him Orcadian. Legend has it that Vikings, Picts, Welsh and Scottish made their home there. The Last Viking stories create the fictional heritage of the author, his predecessors and his descendants. Skål!