My entire life has
been turned on its head. Ever since I
was a child, I have been living in the warm embrace of my family and clan. But as I have learned during my few years in
midgard, war changes many things.
Including people. Hrothgar is a
gentle man—caring, loving, respectful, and above all, immeasurably dedicated to
the well being of his people. But once
he straps on his breastplate and gauntlets, he becomes Hrothgar King of the
Danes and Lord over the great Heorot and the people of the realm. The time of gift giving is over. The drums of war thunder once again. But the roar of Hrothgar’s mighty army drowns
out even those. This is the way of men
and the gods. The only explanation for
this phenomenon is the phenomenon itself.
It has always been this way, and always will be. The only way to exist in this land is to play
the game. We are all chess pieces on the
board of war. I can move forward,
backward, sideways, and diagonally—the most powerful in the contest—yet I feel
as if I have the least power of them all.
I
began my new life in Hrothgar’s kingdom quiet and afraid. But I soon grew used to the customs and habits
the clanspeople. Although I, of course,
miss the camaraderie and friendship of the family I had grown up with, it is
for the best. Sometimes one has to give
up her dreams for the best of those she loves.
I am a sacrifice to our way of life, and a necessary offering to
preserve the safety of my family and people.
I willingly take on this position.
Honor above all else is what matters in the end of time. When the armies of all lands meet one last
time for the final battle of Ragnarok—when all men are brought to their knees
at the point of Odin’s spear—that is the time when all that one does in her
life comes to fruition. I may now live a
hollow husk of an existence, as I smile through my teeth and fill the goblets
of brutish men, but when my time in midgard finally comes to a close, I will
once again be in the warm embrace of my family.
Sometimes I wish that savage demon had
torn me limb from limb.
