Winter Wolf

Rofnir the Wanderer- In ages long ago, near the frozen shores of the White Sea, in Winter Wolf village there lived a great and boastful warrior. He was the pride of his Thane, with a just heart, a sharp sword, and quick wit. He feared and wanted for nothing. Even as war came to his home, he saw it as but another chance for glory, and mayhaps to ascend to the halls of the Great Hunter. The war had many battles, and as trusted hand of his Thane, Rofnir fought valiantly and decisively in each one. On the eve of the final battle however, he was beset by a terrible dream. A vision far worse than defeat. A cursed victory, he saw himself on the field arrayed with his forces, in the vanguard of his high Thane. Victory was at hand. The enemy retreating, then he heard a command on the bitter wind; “Strike the baggage train! They shall have no comfort this night!” He protested his Thane, “They are the families of these warriors; they are not fighters, but women and children.” As the sun glared off the winter snow, he should not see his Thane but again the voice spoke, “Do as I bid, or be exiled Rofnir! Do not think yourself greater than me!” Rofnir commanded his guard to flee lest his blade and soul be stained by such a massacre. With the sound of rolling thunder, the vision ended, and he awoke. On the day of the battle, it played out exactly as he has dreamt: the blinding sun, the howling wind, and biting cold. For the first time in battle, he felt fear in his heart for he knew what was to come. As the enemy retreated, he did not wait for the order he so dreaded; he ordered his men to withdraw, leaving his Thane exposed on the ice. As the victory was at hand, the hand that delivered it fled, and the retreating foe wheeled about, emboldened. They surrounded and killed the once great Thane, who died holding his ground trusting in the return of Rofnir, who never came. Seeing this betrayal, the gods cursed Rofnir, hollowing him out of all warmth life and joy. He prayed and pleaded that he was at once tricked and deceived. He told the gods of what he had seen and how real it all felt. How he believed! The next night he had another vision; in this one he saw his Thane dying on the field of battle, the very same he had left fearing an impossible order that never came. As his Thane was being lifted by the battle maidens to the lodge of the Great Hunter, Rofnir heard a laugh from behind him. Rofnir turned with sword drawn but saw his sword would be of no use here. It was the cackle of Hrundle, the Trickster. Hrundle spoke, “You see now what your blind faith gets you?” Rofnir scowled, “Hold your silver tongue should you wish to keep it!” “I sent you a story, and you so keen to tell of your boasts, did not think twice about this vision of your victory. Of course, how could you lose?” Rofnir looked to his thane being held aloft, “I see now oh king, what my folly has wrought. What would you have me do to end this curse? My heart beats no longer, my lungs draw no breath. I do not die, but I do not live. What can I do to go to the hall of my forefathers?” A new voice boomed from the heavens and the Thane entered parting clouds, “The vision my brother sent you was indeed a trick, but it was also true.” Rofnir saw Hrundle recoil and knew this was no deceit, this was the word of the Great Hunter! “You shall walk this earth and fight many battles until you act justly. You must slay the false king that would order atrocity. Only then shall you be redeemed!” Rofnir trembled. Was this his fate? To grow close to lords and fight alongside them only in the moment of triumph to strike down a king for unbridled hubris? To join a king in battle knowing you would kill him, such dishonor pulled at his now hollow heart. But alas, it was the only way… and so he wandered as a soldier for hire. A soldier who could not die…