A Walk on the Island

Come! Come and sit and be warm.

Come, guest! Drink and be merry.

Come and stay a while, for frost walks the realm this night carrying a sharp sword. Come, for the the cup is full. Come! For the fire is warm and company gladly given. Come and join us at the hearth, and hear a tale of old. So said the host of the hall on that night. And said his skald, what tale would you hear? And the lord bade his guest to choose.

And what tale would you hear, guest of mine? Know you none of the old songs? Is there no aged saga that you would hear told anew? Hear this, then, my welcomed guest: the tale of the shield-maiden Solrun, the daughter of hard-handed Orm. Would you hear of her faith and sacrifice and how they were repaid? Would you learn of the love that yet endures?

Good. Sit, then, and listen.

Before the time of your fathers and mine, in the days of giants and dragons, there lived a folk upon the frost-rimed shores at the rim of the world. Tall and fierce they were, keen-eyed and golden-haired. Long of limb, swift and graceful were they, and fearsome in battle. They alone dared the long nights atop the world, and claws and fangs and the nameless things that dwelt in darkness. They alone braved the whale road in those days, when the great serpents swam the seas. And among them the most fearsome was Orm, called by men the Hard-Handed. And yet Orm was without sons.

Nine daughters had he: nine maidens fair and bold, and each was wedded to a prince of men in her turn. And yet the last of these was watchful, and she knew her father's grief. So she came to him and said, "Father, long have you wished for a son, and now you have only me. Take and train me as you you would your son: teach me the lore of sword and spear, of helm and shield, and I will go by your side in battle, and we shall walk together upon the foe-shore, and I will remember your deeds to my sons."

And Orm saw that Solrun was tall and fierce, and in her eyes was the bite of steel, and she would not be dissuaded. So he did as she asked and taught her all that he knew of the craft of war, and the lore of sword and spear, helm and shield, and she grew strong and swift beneath his guiding hand. Through all the rest of his days, she remained by his side upon the whale road and the foe-shore. His enemies named her Spear-Crow, for she wore black feathers in her golden hair, and her spear sowed carrion among the fields, and it was long before any knew that the one called Spear-Crow was the daughter of Orm and not his son. Yet when Orm knew that he had reached the end of his days, he took his daughter to his knee, and he made her swear him a promise.

"Sweetest daughter, bright day to come, my secret sun," he called her, and his sword-gnarled hand brushed through her golden hair, "hear the last request of an old man. Put down your spear, my beloved. Set aside your love of war. One will come to you soon who is worthy of you. Love him more than the spear-strife, and you will not long be unhappy."

"But father," she said to him, "I cannot leave you bereft. Who will go by your side to the foe-shore? Who will tell of your deeds when you sleep beneath the mound?"

"My deeds are done, Solrun. I have no need of anyone to speak of them: let them look at you and see what I have done. Promise me, daughter of mine. Make an old man's heart glad."

"Then I will do as you command," she said, bowing her head and pressing her cheek to his knee. And she kissed his hand and his fist, and she raised her eyes to his and said also, "But grant me this request, father. Grant me a dowry like none other. Give to me the sword you have carried, and let my husband take it from me. For only the one who can best me is worthy to become your son!"

And again, Orm beheld the steel in his daughter's eyes, and he granted her request. He gave her the sword called Wrath, which was forged by the great dwarf smith Dainn for a lord of giants, and yet he warned her of the curse that was worked into that steel. For it could never be unsheathed without being the death of a man, and it had always to be sheathed with blood still warm upon it. There was no living thing, neither man nor beast nor else, that could live to see another day once wounded by it, whether the wound was great or small, and the man who bore it in battle would always be victorious if blows were struck with it.

Then Orm was afraid for her, and he cautioned her: "Do you see, daughter, how dangerous a thing I have given you?"

But Solrun only smiled at him. "Do you see, father, how dangerous a son I will bring you?"

And when the tale spread that the Spear-Crow, the last daughter of Orm Hard-Handed, was to be given in marriage to the man who bested her, men came from across the seas, from high mountains and green vales and from far away, each to try his fate. Each fell at her feet, cut down by her blade. Each died by her hand, adding his blood to her dowry until Solrun had begun to despair of winning a son for her aged father. Then no heroes came to test their fate, no matter how the tale was spread, no matter how great her beauty nor how terrible the sword she would give to the victor.

So the frost-rimed shore was quiet for a time. Orm grew old, and Solrun became restless, until the coming of a prince from the north.