his mother, âand that a leaderâs life is thankless. No matter how well you keep the people fed, their children safe, and their pets free of ticks, a village will always find reasons to complain. Itâs always âWhat have you done for us lately?ââ
âSo why even be a leader then? All they do is blame you when things go wrong.â Daneâs eyes went to the Shield of Odin hanging on the wall. In its center was a many-faceted jewel, the Eye of Odin, which was said to magically protect the shield holder against every hack and thrust of enemy axe and sword. Whoever possessed the shield was entrusted with great responsibility and honor, for it was his sacred duty to protect the village and its people. Voldar had held the shield with distinction and valor, and when he had fallen, it had been passed to Dane, the people hoping that he had inherited his fatherâs greatness. But wearied by the burdenof such an inheritance, Dane now took the shield from its peg on the wall and told his mother he was going to turn it over to the village council. They could decide who now best deserved it.
âPerhaps Jarl should carry it now,â he said.
âYou will put that back,â said Geldrun with iron in her voice. âGiving up so easily does dishonor to your father. I didnât raise a son to be a whimpering, whipped dog.â She took the shield from his hands. âAll men get beaten, son; life does that. But the strong risk failure again and again, refusing to remain beaten.â
Â
The icy rain pelted his cheeks as he sloshed through the river of mud, leaving the village behind and ascending Thorâs Hill, seeking some peace from his torment. This was the spot where Thorâs Hammer had last touched earth before being blown heavenward by a mighty godsent wind, and it was the one place where Dane would go to think.
Reaching the top of the hill, he gazed down at the deep impression still visible in the earth, the sizeable imprint Thorâs Hammer had made when it had fallen. To be here on this hallowed ground never failed to fill him with awe. But now, with the impression filled with rainwater and nearly gone from sight, it only filled him with sadness, for soon all proof that he had once been a hero would be gone.
He stood alone under the soot-gray sky, gazing out overthe village to the bay waters beyond, thinking on what could have been. On this very spot, he remembered, his people had planned to erect a great granite runestone in his honor. Upon the stone there was to be carved the tale of his grand triumph over Thidrek the Terrifying, thereby commemorating for all time the heroism of the Rune Warriors of Voldarstad. What glory might have been his! But now, Dane knew with bitter certainty, the runestone would never be erected. The unceasing rains had washed away that plan and killed so many other hopes and dreams as well.
Clutching his Thorâs Hammer amulet at his neck, Dane lifted his face skyward. âMighty Thor, I beg forgiveness!â he cried to the heavens. âYou see before you a man fully chastened, disgraced, and made humble by your supreme omnipotence! I get the message! Now if you could just show some mercy and stop the deluge, I do think weâve suffered enough!â For a moment Dane heard nothing but the rain. Then a sudden KA-BOOM of thunder sounded, as if Thor were saying, â Iâll decide when you humans have suffered enough!â And adding further insult, the rain instantly turned to hail, the iceballs pummeling Daneâs upturned face.
Dane dropped to his knees and closed his eyes, this time beseeching someone he hoped was listening from his ale bench in Valhalla. âFather! If you hear meâ¦Iâve done my best to fill your bootsâ¦but Iâve made a messof things, if truth be told, and, wellâ¦maybe my destiny is not to be a leader of men after allâ¦which would suit me fine, really it would. Perhaps Jarl
Allana Kephart, Melissa Simmons