The Last Stand

This may be the last time I can gaze upon the moon, it's truly a beautiful thing, and if the fates decide this to be my last moments, I am happy to see it one last time. For war is upon us, the hard ruler is ready to march out and face the enemy.

“Bjorn, you look like you could use a nice drink.”

“Thank you, my friend. Come sit by the fire.”

I took the drink from his hand and put my ax off to the side. I took a deep swig from the cup, trying to ready myself for the fight. Thinking of what will happen to me, and my friends. My brothers and sisters in the shield wall. Who will die a warrior's death, and who will survive to see the end of the battle.

“You have that look in your eyes. You shouldn’t worry about what the fates have in store for you. You know as well as I, that from the moment we are born our deaths have already been decided. There is nothing we can do but accept it, and wait.” My friend has his moments of wisdom and this. This was one of them.

“Your right, whatever happens, will happen. As fate has planned out.”

I finished my drink and picked my ax back up to sharpen it. To make sure it is ready to feast on flesh and bathe in blood. There is some calm, some piece of mind when doing this. The world just makes sense.

“I think tonight, I will make one last sacrifice. A sacrifice to Try so that we may be victorious.”

“What will you offer him, we have no cattle, nothing to give to the gods.”

“I will give him my own blood, if I have nothing else to give to the gods. I offer my blood.” I reached for my knife and sliced my palm open and clenched my fist over the fire.

“To you mighty Tyr, god of war, god of justice, god of victory. To you I make this sacrifice of blood, so that we may be victorious over the Saxons.” I didn’t bother to wrap my hand, as a sign of commitment to the gods, that even with an open wound I will fight and with my own blood marked my face with the tiwaz rune. Before I knew it, the sun was rising. We marched to the bridge and faced the enemy. Shoulder to shoulder we stood, then King Hardrada stepped forward.

“My brothers and sisters, all children of Norway. Today we march, we go into battle against these weak Christians. We will show them the strength and power of our gods, the true gods of man. And we will take this land for our own!” The tyrant delivered such powerful words, which makes sense as he was a great poet. Sadly his words were cut short as an arrow came flying across the sky and piercing his neck. His face was in shock, and his words were cut short, as he was choking on his own blood. Then one last prayer left my lips.

“May the valkyrja find you, and bring you to Odin's table. May you drink and feast with the gods, mighty king Harald Sigurdson, the hard ruler of Norway. I hope to see you at his table, and raise a drink in your name, and rejoice in the battles we have shared.”

We lost our king, but his spirit gave us power. I picked up the ax of my king and went out to the bridge alone. Pounding the butt of my ax against the bridge, taunting these weak Saxons as my shield siblings pull back with the body of our king. While I stood alone, protecting their retreat as one by one a Saxons skull met my blade. It was at this moment, I saw the death the fates had planned for me. To die as a berserker guarding this bridge.