While it wasn't a total surprise to find a large, bearded man sleeping on my living room floor at 4 AM, it set me aback slightly. I didn't know him. His mode of dress was, simply put, archaic. I couldn't help but think that there was a Viking Age reinactment somewhere nearby, though something nagged at the back of my brain that defied that thought. It wasn't the just that the clothes looked as if they were hand woven, stiched and dyed (and in places, repaired). It wasn't the odd shape of the pants -- no, they were breeches, definitely. It wasn't the trim around the sleeves and edges of the voluminous, green shirt he wore, nor the craftsmanship of the torc around his neck. That sort of thing I'd seen before. I'd even seen an axe like his, long handled and with a small, curved head. No, it was none of that, nor the fact they were all together on this quite impressively stealthy man, considering I didn't even hear how he entered the house. My cat, my incredibly unruly and disruptive cat, who likes few and attacks most on the slightest whim, was curled up next to him as he snoozed away. That small fact stirred my curiosity more than his clothes, weaponry, beard or even his shoes, which showed signs of heavy use but looked as comfortable as a pair of old socks.
I gripped my juice glass tightly and stirred my throat, hoping to wake him without too much of a shock. He opened his eyes and lifted his head slowly from his outstretched arm he was using as support. My cat, my lovely chaotic beast, stood and streched her back and sauntered away as if there was nothing wrong. What a little bitch. The bearded man sat up, resting one arm on a bent knee while the other hand scratched at his beard. His eyes, a bright and oddly almost luminescent blue, regarded me with a stare I've never felt in my life.
He began to speak to me in some form of Scandanavian. I understood exactly what he said even though I only know a few words of Swedish and those would barely cover a snippet of what he was saying to me.
"Odin bless you this morning," he said to me first. I could barely figure out how to respond, so I just nodded. "You have lost your Self."
I stared at this man, again not knowing how to respond. I knew immediately that when he said 'Self' he meant it as a capitalized, more important meaning of the word. My inside voice rationalized that somehow you know these things when visited by strange men bearing axes in the wee hours of the morning.
He nodded brusquely at me and rose to his feet in one powerful movement. It was not graceful in any way, but it did inspire thought as to the immensity of the man's physical command. I stand 6'2", he stood slightly shorter than me. He was broad in chest that made me feel like a skinny teenager and it took some exertion on my part not to step back from him. He nodded, somewhat respectfully.
"You know of what I speak," he continued. "You have lost your lust. You have lost your governing spirit. You have endangered your future. I will explain, then show you path proper."
He stared at me for a moment, those bright blue eyes giving me much pause as to a response. Who the hell was this guy, anyway? Breaking into my house, my castle, however small and dim. Telling me things about me that, well frankly, cut to the bone. Why was that? Why was it that what he said struck me harder than anything anyone else ever said to me? I'm more than well aware of how I perceive myself and how others look upon me. I care little of others belief and thought though I do care for family and friends deeply. What was this guy getting at?
He cocked his head slightly and smirked at me. It was then I noticed he had small braids woven into his beard, each with a tiny knot at the end. "You get angry, this is good. You must get angry, you must feel the fire of life in you to do what you need to do to make things right for you and yours. Then you must grab what is rightly yours and never let it go again. Keep what is yours, share it with those in your life, be larger than you have ever been before."
My mouth hung open for a moment, then I found my voice. "What the hell are you, who... what the -- " He stopped me before I could stammer out more.
"You stay quiet. Listen. Learn. Talk after. Sit, we will confer." He sat down on my living room floor, making himself as comfortable as possible on the hard wood. I sat across from him, also trying to make myself comfortable.
"The Blood of your ancestors runs deep within you, Son," he said to me. "Yours runs deeper than others, you feel it, you hear the call of the ancients, the Aesir."
The bearded man leaned forward quickly and practically shouted the skeptical look off my face. "Do not deny your heritage! Do not deny what was, what is, what will be! Your beliefs now may be different than then though they still exist! Denial is forgetting your forefathers! Remember them -- revere them -- they revere you, their spawn, their blood, their gift to the world!"
I was awed by his quick, anger filled reproach. I wasn't even sure what to make of it, how to respond to it. I kept quiet. I did wipe the spittle from him off my face, though.
He calmed rather abruptly. I didn't expect that, considering. I also didn't expect how easily I was accepting this, what would seemingly be a Viking warrior speaking to me in something akin to a Scandanavian language that I somehow understood. Strange things have happened to me before, though this one was probably going to be the topper for a while. My cat returned to us men, winding between the two of us and settling at the bearded man's waist, where he absently started to scratch her ears. She purred.
"You do me no insult, Son. You can not. You only injure you by denying what is. When you can acknowledge what you are, who you are, you will rectify your Self. Know that the strong drink we understand. Celebrations are also understood, they are needed. Remember who and why you are celebrating and conquer the desire for revelry with living for the next day. Teach those around you that zest for life, lust for life is not just in revelry, it is in cooperating, creating, learning for tomorrow and those that come after you. Yes, you will sometimes need to crush some that defy you or stand in your way, do so without remorse or compassion. You can not continue to thrive while being stifled by small minded men." He sat forward a bit, pushing my cat away from him, She sauntered away, obviously pleased with the ear scratching.
"You can not continue this way. You unman yourself. You strangle your Self! You must reunite with what you feel you lost. You know what that is."
I put my juice glass on the floor, it had been untouched since I walked into the room and was slowly growing warm, I was sure. My mind was spinning. Everything this crazy cosplayer was saying was true, I could feel it to my bones. I knew exactly what he was talking about. I could feel my blood sing as he spoke, my heart racing as he mentioned ancestors and forefathers and reverence. I know what I had lost and it was bringing tears to my eyes. It was as if there were battling waves crashing inside me, that of my lack of focus and that of my wants, my desires, my absolutions.
"Weep not, Son. We weep for you so you need not. Find your strength. Find your Self. Seek out your son and teach him, He will help you. All will fall into place after and you will fail naught." He stopped talking and looked to the floor. "My time here is near done. Stand and face me."
We both stood up, I could find nothing more to say or even think. I stood and faced this man and looked at him eye to eye.
"You will do well. You only stepped away from the path proper for a small time, but you must not delay in fixing what has been damaged. It will not be easy. Nothing ever is. Hardships come and you better yourself by defeating them. The old ways are not for now but you must learn from them and make them work in your time. We -- I believe in you, my descendant. Our blood is one, yours is strong and will grow stronger as you pass it on to your own."
The man who called himself my blood stepped back, away from me. A shimmering arm appeared out of the air behind him, reaching for his shoulder. "We are watching you and know we are still proud. You will honor us, we know this. Keep the axe to remind you in the days to come that you are who you think you are. And remember, your father still smiles when telling tales of you, Rikard's Son."
He stepped into the clasping embrace of the arm and I caught a glimpse of a beautiful blonde woman in armor, smiling at him as if he were someone she knew well. Then they both vanished in the blink of an eye.
I stood there, staring at the space where this man was, barely noticing the tears on my face. Everything that was said to me meant something, more than I could even fathom at that moment. I knew though, that the future was indeed bright as my tears fell onto the axe left behind.
I gripped my juice glass tightly and stirred my throat, hoping to wake him without too much of a shock. He opened his eyes and lifted his head slowly from his outstretched arm he was using as support. My cat, my lovely chaotic beast, stood and streched her back and sauntered away as if there was nothing wrong. What a little bitch. The bearded man sat up, resting one arm on a bent knee while the other hand scratched at his beard. His eyes, a bright and oddly almost luminescent blue, regarded me with a stare I've never felt in my life.
He began to speak to me in some form of Scandanavian. I understood exactly what he said even though I only know a few words of Swedish and those would barely cover a snippet of what he was saying to me.
"Odin bless you this morning," he said to me first. I could barely figure out how to respond, so I just nodded. "You have lost your Self."
I stared at this man, again not knowing how to respond. I knew immediately that when he said 'Self' he meant it as a capitalized, more important meaning of the word. My inside voice rationalized that somehow you know these things when visited by strange men bearing axes in the wee hours of the morning.
He nodded brusquely at me and rose to his feet in one powerful movement. It was not graceful in any way, but it did inspire thought as to the immensity of the man's physical command. I stand 6'2", he stood slightly shorter than me. He was broad in chest that made me feel like a skinny teenager and it took some exertion on my part not to step back from him. He nodded, somewhat respectfully.
"You know of what I speak," he continued. "You have lost your lust. You have lost your governing spirit. You have endangered your future. I will explain, then show you path proper."
He stared at me for a moment, those bright blue eyes giving me much pause as to a response. Who the hell was this guy, anyway? Breaking into my house, my castle, however small and dim. Telling me things about me that, well frankly, cut to the bone. Why was that? Why was it that what he said struck me harder than anything anyone else ever said to me? I'm more than well aware of how I perceive myself and how others look upon me. I care little of others belief and thought though I do care for family and friends deeply. What was this guy getting at?
He cocked his head slightly and smirked at me. It was then I noticed he had small braids woven into his beard, each with a tiny knot at the end. "You get angry, this is good. You must get angry, you must feel the fire of life in you to do what you need to do to make things right for you and yours. Then you must grab what is rightly yours and never let it go again. Keep what is yours, share it with those in your life, be larger than you have ever been before."
My mouth hung open for a moment, then I found my voice. "What the hell are you, who... what the -- " He stopped me before I could stammer out more.
"You stay quiet. Listen. Learn. Talk after. Sit, we will confer." He sat down on my living room floor, making himself as comfortable as possible on the hard wood. I sat across from him, also trying to make myself comfortable.
"The Blood of your ancestors runs deep within you, Son," he said to me. "Yours runs deeper than others, you feel it, you hear the call of the ancients, the Aesir."
The bearded man leaned forward quickly and practically shouted the skeptical look off my face. "Do not deny your heritage! Do not deny what was, what is, what will be! Your beliefs now may be different than then though they still exist! Denial is forgetting your forefathers! Remember them -- revere them -- they revere you, their spawn, their blood, their gift to the world!"
I was awed by his quick, anger filled reproach. I wasn't even sure what to make of it, how to respond to it. I kept quiet. I did wipe the spittle from him off my face, though.
He calmed rather abruptly. I didn't expect that, considering. I also didn't expect how easily I was accepting this, what would seemingly be a Viking warrior speaking to me in something akin to a Scandanavian language that I somehow understood. Strange things have happened to me before, though this one was probably going to be the topper for a while. My cat returned to us men, winding between the two of us and settling at the bearded man's waist, where he absently started to scratch her ears. She purred.
"You do me no insult, Son. You can not. You only injure you by denying what is. When you can acknowledge what you are, who you are, you will rectify your Self. Know that the strong drink we understand. Celebrations are also understood, they are needed. Remember who and why you are celebrating and conquer the desire for revelry with living for the next day. Teach those around you that zest for life, lust for life is not just in revelry, it is in cooperating, creating, learning for tomorrow and those that come after you. Yes, you will sometimes need to crush some that defy you or stand in your way, do so without remorse or compassion. You can not continue to thrive while being stifled by small minded men." He sat forward a bit, pushing my cat away from him, She sauntered away, obviously pleased with the ear scratching.
"You can not continue this way. You unman yourself. You strangle your Self! You must reunite with what you feel you lost. You know what that is."
I put my juice glass on the floor, it had been untouched since I walked into the room and was slowly growing warm, I was sure. My mind was spinning. Everything this crazy cosplayer was saying was true, I could feel it to my bones. I knew exactly what he was talking about. I could feel my blood sing as he spoke, my heart racing as he mentioned ancestors and forefathers and reverence. I know what I had lost and it was bringing tears to my eyes. It was as if there were battling waves crashing inside me, that of my lack of focus and that of my wants, my desires, my absolutions.
"Weep not, Son. We weep for you so you need not. Find your strength. Find your Self. Seek out your son and teach him, He will help you. All will fall into place after and you will fail naught." He stopped talking and looked to the floor. "My time here is near done. Stand and face me."
We both stood up, I could find nothing more to say or even think. I stood and faced this man and looked at him eye to eye.
"You will do well. You only stepped away from the path proper for a small time, but you must not delay in fixing what has been damaged. It will not be easy. Nothing ever is. Hardships come and you better yourself by defeating them. The old ways are not for now but you must learn from them and make them work in your time. We -- I believe in you, my descendant. Our blood is one, yours is strong and will grow stronger as you pass it on to your own."
The man who called himself my blood stepped back, away from me. A shimmering arm appeared out of the air behind him, reaching for his shoulder. "We are watching you and know we are still proud. You will honor us, we know this. Keep the axe to remind you in the days to come that you are who you think you are. And remember, your father still smiles when telling tales of you, Rikard's Son."
He stepped into the clasping embrace of the arm and I caught a glimpse of a beautiful blonde woman in armor, smiling at him as if he were someone she knew well. Then they both vanished in the blink of an eye.
I stood there, staring at the space where this man was, barely noticing the tears on my face. Everything that was said to me meant something, more than I could even fathom at that moment. I knew though, that the future was indeed bright as my tears fell onto the axe left behind.
