First Awakening

Chickens are terrifying, Holly thought dimly. They are mean, vile birds that we only think are funny because they bob their heads and we eat them. Huh. 

This thing, this onion, or whatever the giant dwarf man had called it, had legs like tree trunks. Like, if a tank suddenly grew legs it would still be smaller than this thing. Its head was the size of a trashcan, and its beady eyes were the size of dinner plates. It had the indecency to have teeth inside of its beak, and instead of a feathers, a long snaky tail hovered above their heads. It was a T-Rex covered in rust-colored feathers, a massive engine of disease and talons and malice. 

"It's gotta be what? Fifteen, twenty feet tall?" Ben whispered.

The enormous bird stalked towards the Wolfric's still body. Holly could see an arm sticking limply up among the wreckage. She watched in horrified fascination as the thing cocked its head from side to side.

"Come on guys," Mark said, pulling on her sleeve. "We gotta go," He whispered, "Hurry, while the thing's distracted."

"We can't just leave that dude there," Ben protested. 

"I'm the oldest-"

'By 7 minutes!"

"And my job is to make sure you guys are safe. We're going." 

Holly didn't wait for them to finish arguing. Wolfric was going to be munched any minute by a walking advertisement for Chik-fil-A. Darting out of hiding, she sprinted towards the monster, hearing her brothers swear and scramble after her a moment later. The monster paused and looked at her, and Holly realized she was screaming her head off. She threw one of the axes at the creature, aiming for the chest. The throw went wide, but the thing was so big it was kind of hard to miss anyway, and the ax up buried itself in the feathers on the chicken's side. It cocked its head to one side at her, looking puzzled, then nipped at the ax, dislodging it. 

"ROOOAAAAAR!" It charged her, and Holly threw myself to one side just as it stomped past. 

Somewhere behind her, Holly could here one of her brothers yell, "Come on chickenzilla! Pick on someone your own size!" She rolled over just in time to see Ben throw his spear. Instead of getting stuck in the feathers, the spear got lodged itself just beneath the Honions eye. It shook its head angrily and trumpeted its displeasure, a long, ricocheting noise that set their bones to humming.

Ben ran up to the honion, sword in hand, and the gigantic bird kicked him. Holly stumbled to her feet just as her brother crashed into the tent next to her, completely demolishing it. She ran to his side, but he shook himself, raised his sword, and charged, yelling.

A moment later he was joined by Mark. The two boys circled around the honion, every once in awhile trying to get in a jab with a spear or sword. Ben rolled to avoid a tail swipe and a second later the honion pecked at Mark. He jabbed at its beak with the spear, but the huge beast snatched the spear from his hand and through it away. A moment later it screeched and turned its attention on Ben, who had sliced its tail with his sword. Mark hurried to unsheathe his sword and started laughing. We're going to die, he thought. We're going to be eaten by a giant chicken, and Ben thinks we can win.

Holly ran crouched over to the side of the Wolfric, checking his pulse. The huge bearded man breathed shallowly, and blood ran down the side of his head. Holly managed to undo the straps and carefully pull off his helmet. A large gash was seeping on one side of the head, but it didn't look too deep. Holly glanced back to see how her brothers were doing, and then set to work dragging the dwarf into the darkness of one of the other tents.

Ben was backed into a corner, and Mark couldn't get to him. The honion was merciless, stabbing down on the shield with its beak. Miraculously Ben seemed to be holding up, but it was only a matter of time. Mark swung at one of its scaly legs trying to distract it, but the honion kicked at him, spinning the sword from his hand. Desperate, Mark grabbed hold of the swing tail above him and pulled backwards. The bird squawked and redoubled its efforts at Ben.

A strange bubbling sensation surged through Mark, starting from his feet and flooding upwards. His armor began to steam in the cool morning air. Mark planted his feet firmly, suddenly calm, and yanked. The honion stumbled backwards, crashing to the ground and almost squishing Mark. Ben surged forward, sword in hand, and stabbed at the monster's chest, his face bright red and eyes wild. The monster chicken screamed and clawed at him. The armor kept Ben from getting disemboweled, but the thick claws dented the armor and tumbled Ben from his perch on the honion's chest. Mark scrabbled up and gripped the creature around the neck. The giant creature stood up and tried to peck Mark off its back, but Mark kept his choke hold tight, and the monster couldn't do more than scratch at the back of his armor.

Ben had found Mark's spear, and rushed forward, plunging it deep into the honion.

"Hey, watch it!" Mark shouted downward, wincing at the spear seemed to come straight at him. "Stop attacking its chest, you idiot! Haven't you ever eaten a chicken before? That's where all the wing muscles are! Go for the weak spots!"

"This isn't exactly a videogame, Mark! Stop yelling at me!" Ben weaved to dodge another kick, looking around wildly for another weapon. The bird turned to him and he grabbed hold of the spear he'd plunged into its shoulder, yanking it out. 

Hôniôn

           “So what do you mean we are halfway into Yggdasil? I thought that was a tree.” Ben asked. “And what the heck is a Lif?”

               Mark turned to stare at his brother. Holly looking at him from the other side with a look of sheer disbelief on her face that Mark was sure mirrored his own.

                “What!?” Ben asked staring hard at both of them.

               “Really Ben out of all the times to ask questions, you chose to ask when a giant monster, dragon, dinosaur is going to eat us.” Holley hissed.

               “Hôniôn.”  Wolfics gravelly voice whispered. “It’s called a Hôniôn. Lucky for us it’s not as smart as the other things you mentioned. Unlucky at the same time, beast just likes to go after everything.” All three siblings turned their attention to Wolfric who gazed steadily outside the tent. The Loud footfalls of the monster could still be heard accompanied by the occasional loud screechy scream of a roar.

  
              “Lif, that’s what you three are if your mortal, still not convinced of that though.” Wolfric continued. “Lif can transverse the branches of yggdasil and therefor step into the other realms.”

               “But how can you do that?” Holly asked. “You make it sound like it’s an actual tree.”

                “Bloody ashes, Younglings. It could be a tree, it could not. If you want a better answer you’re going to have to ask a scholar not me. I work with things of the earth. I leave the philosophy and books to alfar, or svartalfar.”

               “But… how can we be in yggdrasil?” Mark asked still thoroughly confused.

            “Uhgg boy! You redheads just can’t stop asking questions can you. This is a branch of yggdrasil. More magic in the air. Those who can’t transverse realms are gone. It’s like a mirror you stepped through. For all I know you three dragged me her.” Wolfrics grip tightened on his spear until his knuckles went white. “We need to move, try to get back to the mortal realm. Now shut up and follow me.”

           Wolfric went to the edge of the tent flap and looked out, motioning to Mark, Ben and Holly to follow. Marked looked at his siblings shrugged his shoulders and followed the dwarf as quietly as he could outside the tent. Wolfric went slowly looking around the corners of the tents to make sure the way was clear before motioning the others to follow. Mark was surprised how easy it was to follow him in armor. Our maybe it was a testament to the dwarf’s skill.

           Suddenly the unmistakable beat of wings could be heard and a massive body of feathers flattened a tent up ahead of them. A head rose up from the mass of chestnut feathers revealing a sharp beak and round yellow eyes. A red flap of skin hung under its beak and another decorated the top of its head in a comb.

           “It’s a chicken!” Holly said incredulously.

           “Shhhhh, girl.” Wolfric said pulling her behind a tent with him. Ben and Mark quickly followed. Mark looked at Ben and they both shared wide eyed confusion. They were running away from a giant chicken. If the situation wasn’t so tense and serious Mark would have laughed.

            “Well it looks like you’re in luck younglings.”Wolfric said grimacing. “I don’t think she saw you.” Just then the gigantic chicken let out a piercing roar. Mark could make out a smell along with it. Almost as if all the chicken farms had been thrown together. Mark tried to grab his nose but his hand rebounded off the helm Wolfric had given to him.

           “That smell is rank.” Ben said his face contorted.

            “Well boy get over it quick because that Hôniôn won’t wait for you.” Wolfric growled. “What am I saying you three don’t stand a chance.” Shaking his head he looked over the siblings. “By Oden’s eye. Urrr I’ll keep the beasty distracted you three find a way back, you here.”

            With that the dwarf ran out screaming and heading right for the gigantic monster. When he got near he slowed planted his foot and threw his spear at its head. Mark watched disbelievingly as the chicken cocked its head to the side and the spear flew harmlessly past. Undeterred Wolfric drew his sword and started to edge nearer the beast. The chicken took two step slowly forward cocked its head to the side again and then faster than Mark thought it could took two more steps and struck at the dwarf with its beak. Wolfric raised his shield to meet the oncoming thrust. The beak pierced the shield and stopped. The monster lifted its head bring the shield and Wolfric up with it. Wolfric brought his sword down in the birds beak. The edge slid in and stopped. This must have hurt the chicken or just made it mad. It started swinging hits head back and forth in violent motions. Eventually it was all too much and Wolfric was sent flying crashing into a tent.

            “I think we just lost our dwarf guys.” Ben whispered. 

Birds

"What do you mean? Are they going to attack us?" Holly shivered. She'd always gotten along remarkably well with animals: dogs, sheep, and cats, but also raccoons, deer, snakes, and even an injured hawk she'd once found. These were different. Their was something about the straightforward, hungry gaze, the raw color of the eyes, and even of the posture of the ravens that felt wrong somehow. They didn't act like right.

"Of course not. It's what's coming after them I'm worried about." Wulfric disappeared into the depths of his shop, but they could still hear him banging around. The three kept their eyes on the ravens, which watched them steadily back.

"Freak, it's like something out of a Hitchcock movie or something." Mark muttered. 

"You mean 'The Birds'?" Ben remarked sarcastically. He found his hand on the hilt of a spear, and forced himself to set it down. Just crows, he told himself. 

"No, I'm sure it was called something different. Like, 'Revenge of the Crows' or something." Mark glanced back at the shopkeeper, Wulfric, who was busy pulling on a coat of mail with a faint chink, adjusting leather gauntlets, knee pads, strapping a shield to his arm and grabbing an axe. 

"You might as well resume your forms, young ones. I don't know what's coming, but it's best to be prepared." 

"What do you mean?" Mark asked.

"Look, giant, alfar, or svartalfar, I don't know and I don't care, but you should know better than to play games when natteravn start watching." He sounded irritated. 

"We really have no idea what you're talking about." Mark laid a hand on the shoulder of the huge shopkeeper, who shrugged him off angrily. 

"Do you here what I'm saying! Quit play-acting! We're already halfway onto Yggdrasil as it is, and-"

"Stop it! You're frightening my sister!" Ben yelled back angrily, putting an arm over Holly's shoulder. Holly felt like the creep factor had sky-rocketed, but it wasn't the shop keeper. She didn't correct Ben though. Sometimes it was just best to let him get it out of his system. 

Wulfric stared incredulously at the three, muttering, "Mortals? But nobody's been able to traverse- not since?" He seemed to gather himself up, handing his ax to Holly. "You're going to need this, then. All three of you," he said, turning to the boys, "Gear up. This is no time to be explaining things, but I'll try to be as quick as I can before it comes." 

"Before what comes?" Mark asked, holding Ben from making an angry retort. A second later something outside answered. 

The roar echoed distantly, screechy and broken and threatening. 

"Forget Hitchcock, this is totally Jurassic Park." Holly didn't know why she was whispering. 

"Probably a bear," Mark said, looking at Wulfric for confirmation. The man shook his head. Mark and Ben scrambled to pull on the mail shirts, shields, and helmets Wulfric passed to them. A moment later Holly was similarly decked out. Despite the apparent weight, the gear settled comfortably onto them, buckled expertly into place by the old shopkeeper. The whole time he kept a running commentary in a low-pitched voice, glancing nervously at the opening to his stall. At the sound, the raven-creatures and shivered and taken flight, but Holly had the feeling they were still close by. 

"Now listen up, young ones, because we won't have time to explain things twice. You're about to get your first taste of battle I suspect, but if you can stay out of the way, that's probably best. You know old stories about dragons and dwarves and suchlike? Well, some of them are true, and one of them is about to come through that door and try to kill us."

"You mean like Lord of the Rings?" For some reason Holly didn't question it. With the birds and the weird roar, and the way the shopkeeper had been acting, it made a strange kind of sense. She realized suddenly that they hadn't heard or seen anyone outside the shop since they came in, even though the shop had been on a major path through the fair. The air smelled crisper, cleaner, but also more earthy. 

"Tolkien knew his stuff," Wulfric nodded approvingly, "Wouldn't surprise me if he was Lif, although I haven't heard as anyone knew for sure." He gave spears and shields to Ben and Mark, but Holly couldn't handle the weight, so Wulfric handed her two axes. The weapons felt comfortable in her grip. "You ever hear about Ragnarok? Where the gods died on the fields of Asgard. Norse stuff?" 

"Like Thor and Loki and Odin?" Mark grinned. "After watching Thor, we all went out and got allot of stuff on Norse mythology." He frowned. "You're saying all that was real?" 

"Is real." Wulfric, gestured to himself. "Or what did you think I was? A myth?" 

"A cranky blacksmith." Ben muttered. 

"Exactly, kid. I'm a dwarf." Wulfric answered. "Now be quiet, I think it's getting closer."

They stood quietly for a moment, listening to the wooden beams of the tent creak and shudder in a light wind. 

"But, aren't dwarves supposed to be kind of small or something? You're kind of huge." Holly asked. Ben snorted, trying not to laugh out loud. 

"Shut up!" Wulfric hissed, pulling them all to the floor behind a table full of weapons.

For a moment, their was nothing. Then, almost like a train letting off steam, Holly heard the slow inhale, exhale of something enormous. Two nearly silent legs like tree trunks cast long shadows as something walked passed the entrance. The legs were three-toed with talons, like the legs of a t-rex, with a sort of armor-scaling and strangely, feathers. The huffing sound seemed to come from right above their heads, and then away, before the thing brushed up against the tent with its body, nearly knocking it over.

RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWEEEEEER! AWWWWWWWWWOOOUUUUR! AWWWWWWWWOOOUUUUR!

After a moment, the creature seemed to move away. "Where I'm from," Wulfric whispered. "Dwarves are small."

Forge

For a while all Ben could do was stare at the stall’s owner. Ben knew Mark wasn’t the biggest person when it came to muscle mass, but on average most people didn’t even come close. Wulfric on the other hand doubled what his brother had if not more. It looked as if he had been pounding away at mettle for the last five hundred years. 

“Hi, my name is Mark.” Ben’s brother took hold of Wulfrics outstretched arm. “And this is my brother Ben and my little sister Holly.”

            “It is very good to meet you all.” Wulfric took a moment to get a closer look at all three of them. “I mean none of you no disrespect, but it has been some time since I had the pleasure of meeting siblings with such a unique coloring to their hair.”

            “And it’s all natural!” Holly said, running a hand through her bright red hair, beaming.

            “Well is it now. There is no fire I know of that could rival your beauty.” This made Holly’s smile widen and she spun around taking in everything in the tent.

            “Did you make all this? How long did it take you? It’s so pretty, what is all the knot work called. How much would this cost?” She said holding up a delicate silver chain with a small silver hammer charm on it. Ben stepped a little closer to get a better look. The charm was covered in what looked like Celtic knots. Some of them so fine he could barely make them out.

            “All this was crafted by me. Some pieces taking longer than others. That piece is Mjolner, Thor’s hammer. There were many in the old days who wore them and prayed to the God of thunder. Not many wear them now, not that it would help them anyways, seeing as he is gone.” A look of sadness flashed across Wolfric’s face and was gone. “Those knots are futhark runes. As for the price, little lady, let me think. I’ve been told that the old way of trading is frowned upon now, so for you it would be 160 of your Canadian coin.”

            “Oh.” Holly said a little disappointed. Ben looked down at his little sister. She had actually wanted the chain and charm.

            “Do you teach classes?” Mark asked quickly. Ben could tell he had noticed Holly’s face as well and was trying to quickly break the awkward silence. “I would love to learn how to make some of these.”

            “Well boy, I knew you liked the craft. I could smell it.” Wolfric said smiling.

            “Mark is great at mettles shop. He’s made me all sorts of stuff.” Holly put in excitedly as she carefully put down the necklace on its cushion.

            “And did you use the welder?” Wolfric asked his attention on Mark watching him shake his head in ascent. “I thought as much.” He said shaking his head. “The welder was a fine thing to make, but now so many of your kind spend too much time with it, and have lost the art of the forge. The mettle is alive boy! She needs to be shaped to be turned into the powerful things you want her to be. Not glued together with some alien mettle she’s never meet. I felt your hand boy, it’s meant for a hammer not a torch. Come with me I’ll show you something.”

            Wolfric lead Mark to the back of the tent to where he had tools and an anvil set out. They began to talk about mettle stuff. What mettle to use for what. How to slowly add other materials so the mettle becomes stronger. Not really paying attention Ben started to look at what else was in the tent. Slowly he made his way towards Holly who was excitedly trying to look at everything at once. Ben picked up a Viking sword. The hilt and scabbard beautifully wrapped in dark red leather. The cross guard and pommel had to be made out of silver and he could see that they were both covered in those futhark runes. They still looked like Celtic knots to Ben. He slid the sword out of its sheath and looked at the blade. The mettle looked like some kind of wood it had so many lines running through it. Now Ben didn’t work with mettle like Mark did but he knew it looked like Damascus steel. Yet somehow this steel looked more alive. In the swords fuller next to its hilt was a word in a different mettle, it said Ulfberht. A cry behind him made him look away from the sword. Outside the tent some ravens had perched on the surrounding tents looking at him with small beady red eyes.

            “Ben you need to come see this!” Holly said grabbing his arm and dragging him away from the entrance and the weird looking ravens. She pulled him to a shield propped up against a bench. “Look at this Ben. There is a bunch of pictures carved in the mettle. It looks like it tells a story!”

            She was right. In the center of the shield was a large tree. At the top of the tree there was a bird, maybe an eagle, and a dragon on the bottom. On the branches of the tree it looked like worlds, like each branch held up a world or turned into one. Around and around the tree ran pictures of battles. Wolfs ran, and men fought giants. A serpent edged the rim and a man brought a hammer down on its head. It was one of the most beautiful things Ben had ever seen. An apple tree was burning, and a woman killed a giant wolf with her hands. Ben couldn’t say why but he felt drawn to the story on the shield, so much so that he couldn’t look away. When a square hand enveloped his shoulder he almost jumped out of his skin. He looked up into the worried face of the blacksmith.

            “I think it’s time you should go.” Wolfric said not even looking at him. Instead he was looking outside the tent. Ben realized that it was darker and looked around. Outside of the tent there were Thousands of ravens. Screaming flying covering the other tents and all of them had beady read eyes.

            “What’s going on?” Holly said staring at the birds.

            “Those are Natteravn. It means something bad is coming.” Wolfric said turning to look at them. “And it might already be too late for you to leave.”

Summer Harvest Festival

The Summer Harvest Festival was on the third week of September, and Holly absolutely adored it every year. It was like a mix of farmer's market, school science fair, petting zoo, renaissance fair, and highland games all rolled into one. Just inside the fairgrounds, a pair of street performers were juggling red, white, and green balls. Up on a stage a little ways back, local actors were performing some Shakespeare play. Booths along the crowded thoroughfares offered games, pottery, jewelry, clothing, and paintings. Almost everyone wore normal clothes, but a good handful walked around in kilts or pirate stuff, with fat pants and fat dresses with slashed sleeves. Quite a few of them had fake swords and shields strapped to their backs. One particularly rotund man with a huge handlebar mustache had painted his body green and wore tusks and plugs. Thousands of people came from all over the BC and the states, from Washington and Oregon and even a few from California or further. The Harvest Festival lasted for a week, with "medieval sports" on the first couple days, plays every night in the amphitheater, animal shows and cooking competitions halfway through the week, and it ended with some fireworks and a huge music festival.

Holly was everywhere at once, jabbering at Ben about how adorable the rabbits were one moment, squealing over a silver necklace the next, and demanding a piggy-back ride from Mark before she was done squealing. Although she was already 16, only a year younger than the boys, she felt it was her eternal privilege to be carried like the princess she was. A moment later, teetering on Mark's shoulders, she waved excitedly for them to head up one street, exclaiming, "They're doing jousting guys! Guys, jousting! Mark, Ben! With real horses and everything!"

Ben and Mark rolled their eyes and wandered over, pretending they didn't care, but as soon as they heard the crash of armor and saw the horses they forgot to be cool and ran up, Holly bouncing up and down.

Two "knights" faced each other in heavily padded armor, one in red and the other in white. The horses barding was also color coded, and the long boffer lances were wrapped with red or white streamers. There was the sound of a trumpet blast, and they wheeled around and charged each other full tilt. A tremendous crash later, and the white knight was on the ground, his horse prancing nervously next to him. A couple of paramedics rushed the field, but he was already getting up and limping to the sideline.

They watched a couple more rounds, until Ben noticed the time. "Mark, Holly, we need to get going. They'll be expecting us." Holly had signed herself and her brothers up to help with the livestock auctions. It got them out of classes before lunch Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, and people who were participating in the Festival got in for half price, but Ben wasn't exactly thrilled to be cleaning out cow crap and chicken turds. Still, it was only for a couple hours, and then they could go back to checking out the fair.

They were making their way towards the animal barns when Mark noticed one particular stall. An enormous sign pronounced Hand-Forged Arms and Armor, and inside the shadowed booth swords, halberds, shields, daggers, breastplates, chain mail, morning stars, gauntlets, and other things glinted. Despite the clear awesome radiating from the booth like a palpable aura, their didn't seem to be anyone inside, other than the proprietor, who sat smoking in one corner.

"Let's check this out real quick," he said, ducking inside before Ben could object, but he didn't really hear any complaints.

This shop was amazing. Instead of regular canvas, the walls and roof of the tent seemed to be made of dyed leather. In authentic leather scabbards, finely balanced daggers slid easily from their sheathes, the greased metal etched with runes. In the front a couple of the regular fan-boy pieces rested like always, Lord of the Rings duplicates and Klingon weapons, with a few blatantly unrealistic fantasy pieces, but farther back, the arms and armor looked deadly serious.

"See anything you like?" A gravelly, German-accented voice startled them. For a moment, Holly had forgotten that they weren't alone.

The stall owner was enormous, almost as tall as Ben or Mark. He was twice as wide as either of them, and a bristly black beard and swarthy complexion highlighted the deep lines cragging his face. His head was completely bald and shone in the darkness, and on one bared bicep a great apple tree with golden apples in it's branches seemed to shiver.

"Wulfric Idunslav at your service." He lumbered to his feet and stuck out his hand.