Bothvar Beorcolsson
I knew what I must do. I needed strength. I needed to harden and become a true Viking. One capable of defeating the elves that killed my brother, and I knew something that would give me what I needed to be able to kill them. A weapon so powerful that no weakling could ever pick it up.
I walked up to the cave I once visited as a child with my brother not that long ago. It feels like nothing has changed since I last walked inside this place, but the world itself is no longer the same place it once was then. I walk into the darkness until it surrounds me, but the dark does not last as the cave blooms in strange iridescent light from the rocks and the mushrooms. The memories of the past haunt me as I walk past the glowing pools. I remember Skardi eating these strange mushrooms. He acted strangely after that. Strange for Skardi at least. I look up at the thing that will bring me my revenge. The hammer still sits upon the natural altar of rock. I can see my brother standing above, his childish hands gripping it as he tries to lift it. We were just boys back then. Too weak to lift a weapon like this. It must be the hammer of a god. Why else would it be left here? It must be meant to be found by a warrior strong enough to wield it. And that warrior will be me.
I walk up to the hammer and wrap my hands around its hilt. I can feel the power within it. It hums with power. With everything inside me, I pull. I pull with all the strength that I have, but to no avail. No matter how hard I pull, it does not move an inch. I am not surprised. I may not yet be strong enough, but I will be. I’ll stay here however long I have to in order to get strong enough to lift this hammer. Even if I have to stay here all winter long, I will do whatever I have to. I’ll hunt for food; I’ll chop down the trees at the base of the mountain for fire to keep warm. I’ll eat these damn mushrooms and drink this water if I have to, but I will not give up until I wield this hammer.
—
I discovered that in order to get any sleep in this place, I need to wrap a thick cloth around my eyes. The ore and the mushrooms never stop glowing.
I hunt and fish to eat while smoking what I can and using the cold of the mountains to freeze and store my food for later. I’ve resorted to drinking the cave water because it’s fresh and the only source I have. It has a strange earthy taste to it which I think is probably from the strange glowing rocks that light up the pools in the cave.
I spend most of my days going out to hunt or fish in the morning, then I hack down a tree below the mountain and spend all morning chopping wood to bring up for winter. I don’t know how long it’ll take me to get strong enough to lift this hammer, but I won’t quit until I can wield it.
In the afternoon, I do everything I can to get stronger. I push myself from the ground more than a hundred times. Use the side of an overhanging ledge in the cave to pull myself up a few hundred times. These glowing rocks are too heavy for me to lift. I’ve even taken a pickaxe to loosen them from the ground, but even then, I can’t lift the rock. I use these rocks as a gauge of how strong I am getting. Surely once I can lift one of these rocks, I can lift that hammer.
Hunting brings its own challenges. Most of the animals can hear me coming from far away. I’ve had to learn to be quiet. To walk as lightly as air. That in itself is a challenge. I’ve created new boots that don’t make as much sound. I’ve learned to pay more attention to my surroundings and where I step. I figured out how to recognize loose rocks to avoid them and the clunking sounds they make. It took me a while to figure out how to control my breathing. To keep it as calm and quiet as possible. Through this, I have discovered this flow that makes everything so vivid and makes me aware of everything around me. Even my own heartbeat. Through my calm and slow breathing, I can keep my heartbeat just as calm. I’ve become a stone in the presence of a storm. Unmoving and unwavering. Through practice, my steps and movements have become as silent as a subtle breeze through a valley. This new way of being has kept me well fed and has given me quite a few hides.
When I am not hunting or fishing, I temper my body until I’m too exhausted to move anymore. Then I eat and drink before crawling to my bedroll and passing out. I’ve come to believe that whatever is in this water gives my body some rejuvenating effect. I wake up with no aches or sores. Not only that, but I feel stronger and faster than the day before. I’m able to do more ground pushes and cliff-hanging pulls. I’m more efficient with the wood, cutting and carrying twice as much as I did when I first came here not that long ago.
And yet, I still cannot lift the hammer. I’ve taken time to explore the mountains more and have found some coal deposits in a nearby cave. That will come in handy during winter, so I’ve taken to mining some and gathering it up. I’ve considered smelting this strange glowing ore with the coal I’ve found once I’m strong enough to lift it. Maybe I can make weapons far better than our own iron axes and swords. I’m not a great blacksmith, but I’m decent enough with Aldam’s training.
As the days pass by, I continue to work harder than ever. The sole thought I hold on to is the face of the elf who killed my brother. That arrogant, sharp face and his fiery red hair. I’ll kill him. I will. With that hammer, I’ll smash his head open. This sole thought drives me beyond my limits.
I hammer out the weakness from my body. It’s hard work. I can feel my body strengthen far beyond anything I’ve ever thought possible when I was just a lad.
After most of Fall has passed by and the leaves have changed colors, I try once more to lift these glowing rocks. I grab onto the smallest chunk I can find. With both hands wrapped around the small little stone-shaped ore, I bend my knees down and lift it with everything I have. To my amazement, I’m able to lift it off the ground by a hair. I moved it! I’ve never been able to do that before. This is good. This is progress. I can live with this. Soon, I’ll be able to lift that hammer. I can feel it. I know it’ll be mine. Just as that elf’s head will be mine, severed from the rest of his body. Or smashed. I can imagine either or. Maybe I’ll use the hammer to bash in his chest and then cut off his head to present to my father. I’ll make sure to get a good expression of fear on it before I kill him. But in the meantime, I’ll continue to push myself past my limits and get stronger. I need to lift that hammer.
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