The Viking and the Princess
A Lodestar Story
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Therefore we do not lose heart.
Though outwardly we are fading away,
yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.
For our light and momentary troubles
are achieving for us an eternal glory
that far outweighs them all.
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen,
but on what is unseen.
For what is seen is temporary,
but what is unseen is eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:16-18
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Once upon a time in the mighty raging Northland, there was a wild Viking who, despite his success in conquest, never had a compass. He had many mighty men who followed him to battle, and many beautiful women who desired to follow him to his tent, but the Viking was restless.
The Viking had been born as his mother died. She had named him Akedah which is not a Norse name, but his father wanted it to remain because he loved her.
Akedah’s father had brought his mother home during his own adventure.
Some scandal-tongued folks said that the dark-haired woman had been involved in her own intrepid exploits when she met the burly old man. They said she had not even been “carried off” in proper viking fashion but was actually steering the boat as it came into the fjord while the old viking fished off the bow. She was certainly a queer woman who caused no end of gossip with her nonchalant diffidence toward the Norse deity. According to all the worldly-wise women of the community, her failure to set up a hearth shrine to Freyja (Froya) was undoubtedly the cause of her demise in childbirth. Akedah traded places with his mother in his father’s life, and he had been fairly happy with the arrangement, even if his father was slightly less so.
After the earth balances night and day in equinox, the spiraling planet begins to nod its head toward the sun, and a warm veil falls across the forehead of the northern hemisphere. Winter rushed away from the Northland like a tide receding from the shore, leaving spring revealed like low tide ocean treasures. During this season, black soil billows up through the frost, and glacier calves slide into the sea. As the sun rises ever higher into the brightening sky, the hearts of restless men also rise up to meet the call for adventure, and the gods lead men on great quests.
In this rising warm air, a raven, a shadow in birdish form, gripped the hilt of the Akedah’s broadsword and flew away into the still frozen mountains.
The Viking pursued the bird windward into the frosted highland fog. The bird soared high, but each time it landed for rest, Akedah was not far behind.
Finally, after trailing in the bird’s shadow for a frozen fortnight, the Viking was able to lay hold of its fuliginous feathers. It was in a flash of smoke transformed into the scandalous visage of the Snow Queen. The Snow Queen, a pallid practitioner of wizardry, was the mother of the Arctic wolves. She smiled, or rather, drew back her purple lips to reveal neatly filed fangs. Her frosty face flushed purple under Akedah’s grip as she lunged gracefully to retain her hold on the broadsword. The Viking was unrelenting even as the witches’ flesh grew hoarfrost and his blood retreated from his extremities. Thus they struggled, straight-forward strength against sorcery until the alpenglow of the rising sun settled onto the distant mountain horizon. Then the Snow Queen hissed, “You must release me now Viking. You have won the favor of the gods of Asgard (Osgaurder),” And as she spoke, the rising sun mounted on the morning sky and a rainbow fell from the heavens Illuminating the Snow Queen and the Viking. In these times, when the world was young and wild, the rainbow was known as the Bifrost (Bif roast) Bow, the door into Asgard, the domain of the viking gods.
“The gods have given you three gifts,” she sniffed with only a slightly perceptible air of covetousness furrowed into her frown. There materialized at the Support this podcast
