POV: Heath Dollen.
Date: Þórri 20th, 798 AD. (Alt: 1st February, 799 AD.) Location: Götaland (Ancient Sweden.)
Heath and their talks were in full commute, a back and forth that appeared to be going nowhere with the way these Vanir kept on getting confused with Heath's ideas.
"Alright, our agreement is as follows: For me to send over (10 divine hand grenades, 10 fjórðungr ≈ (50.8024-Kg (112.0002-Lbs)) of any seeds, and 1 set of armour) / month, while you will send over your willing rescued, vagrants and homeless to me." Heath expounded.
"Too little from our side." Móðir Jǫrð stated. "We will send over some of our own workers under a caravaneer to provide expertise for your construction projects. Your buildings may be great, but you have much to learn." She gave her own adjustment, which led to Heath shaking his head. "You already know my incredibly rare skill of perfect memory. I learnt much of your prowess under a single stare, that would be too much." He believed just that much should be alright, to then be involved in the construction runic injector for others.
". . . I wish I had that." Tuisco mumbles in the background, many Vanir that have been slowly fading from the power of faith in their strength and growth, leading to the slow, experienced degradation of their minds. His son patted him on the back, a silent assent to his actions.
"Then what do you wish to be traded to you?" Her eye came close to twitching with how stubborn Heath could be. "I have Dróttning Freyja's reserves on 1 hand, Hel's and the Nornir's blessing in the other, your teachings for future magic, have I not had enough?" Heath's eyebrow raised, arms crossed, and his veins clenching from the forearms' tightening. "Those were part of our play to aid you, but this reference will help us much more than it will help you." She knows, for he is providing knowledge and labour for FREE! She felt the need to pull her hair out, maybe readying to make a deal for a temporary golden wig headpiece like Sif's could work?
"We had forged Hǫfuð, Heimdallr's weapon, in the past. Do you wish for us to make another in likeness, Queen-Mother?" A rare sight indeed when not away in their workshop, Gangr Ǫlvaldisson, the most talented of the jǫtunn smiths. Brother to Iði and the dead Þjazi (Failed kidnapper of Iðunn.)
"You are still preparing for your newest competition against Brokkr and Eitri, Gangr. No." She shut that down quickly, leading him to grumble in the corner. "Competition? What sort is it?" Heath questions, leading to sighs all around the Iðavǫllr council, for they saw the eyes of the jǫtnar metal-shaper alight as would the bellows of a blast forge. "Why, it is the markings of seeing the greatest strengths known to all species! To make the best object of a category chosen by Vǫlundr himself!" He thumps his forehead, reverent to the perfect Blacksmith.
"Will his brothers be there as well?" Heath asks, knowing of the Proto-Germanic myth involving ᚹᛖᛚᚨᚾᛞᚨᛉ (*Wēlandaz (Vǫlundr),) the hero ᚨᚷᛁᛚᚨᛉ (*Agilaz (Egil),) and their youngest, ᛊᛚᚨᚷᚠᛁᚦᚱ (*Slagfiðr.) Gangr shook his head. "Both of his brothers are currently in cohorts with the receding Celtics."
Heath waited for him to say more, but nothing else was spoken. He nods, understanding it must be of grave importance. More than likely their Patron God, Sucellus, being involved in it. That name in thoughts of Heath's head now causing a cold draft to fall through the room. "Do not think of him." Vafþrúðnir comments, a history between them and the others in brackets (Belenos, Cernunnos, Epona, Lugus, Maponos, Taranis and Toutatis) apparent. "I am sorry." Heath hopes it keeps the room calm, luckily, it alone helps to reduce the room's rising stress.
"We will continue on." Móðir Jǫrð followed with the broken tension through, hands interlocked and her face focused forward into his eyes. "You appear very interested. How about we let you see the competition as a bystander? Even, potentially learn from them?"
That led to the tall God's eyes to sparkle, for new, Divine knowledge could only mean good things. "I would, please. My weapons still need much in terms of learning." Heath bows, earning a few silent judgments from the other Gods for his impeccably polite tone. "There will be more for you to earn, but that will be enough for now." She *SLAMS* her hand upon the podium, sounding as a gavel that reverberates through the room. "Meeting dismissed. The competition will be in 5 nights, aired in Bąckvikenholmr (Bäckviken(holm) island.) We will remind you."
As the meeting was called off, the midday sun was seen while Heath began walking through their kingdom. Many Vanir and Vanir-allied Gods talked with him, singing praises for the incredible creation that was his armour and weapons he provided.
He would blag it off and act humble, but many saw from his visible emotions that he felt happy at so much positive feedback from others. A list of the first batch of people to be sent over were given, and it was bigger than expected, 437 in total, each having given permission for a new home. "Have these many truly been homeless?" Heath asks Vafþrúðnir, the provider of the list, who sadly nods. "We gave them temporary shelter in the stórr-langhús (tall longhouses), but it became overcrowded. Many are alone, who had no means." . . .
"Really, she was trying to thank you for doing this, for we had no way of feeding them." That earned a shy handshake from Heath, not expecting it to have truly been so terrible. "When do you suggest I take them?" That led to Heath's allowance in the creation of a portal.
113 from Chapter 53, 437 today. 1,165 + 113 + 437 + 1 (New birth) = 1,716. An incredible growth of population that still does not even cover a single strand of hair if it were a maðr (Norse person) the height of Den höga ormtungan. "Yes, you have the opposite problem!" Vafþrúðnir silently chortles, knowing of Heath's incredible structure. He pats Heath's back before moving away, not wanting to be involved in this mess. "-You know what I will tell you." Iðunn was heard having a clapback against Iði, who had just come in to check on both of them.
"I know, I know. I just want to know the new God." The steps came closer as both soon appeared in front of Heath. "Well, HELLOᴼ~!" Iði looked up and down Heath's form made for this realm in a glance, seeing he had a powerful build.
"Surprising, am I not?" Heath smirked, knowing his thoughts. "But I am so much more, friend." He raises his hand, quickly clasped by Iði in turn. "Nice to meet you, I have heard much of you from myths by my home realm." Heath gave a believable lie, for there was only 1 known myth that involved him with his name spoken, but Iði did not need to know that. It led to the low-God laughing while holding his hand tighter. "Thank you, and much of you, great scientist God. Creator of intelligence!*He HaHaHA!*"
"*Aha*Seems new titles are following me, eh? How have you and your 'friends' been?" He looked at Iðunn, who gave a 'so-so' expression. The clasping was let go of, and they now had a pleasant conversation involving the past few months' management of the villages and new colonies within their territory's borders.
"It must have been hard for you all to have so many in danger." Heath gently slapped both of their backs, feeling comforted by someone who got the pains of developing a thriving society. "Nerthus (Njǫrun) must be a help managing crops, hopefully?" That earned stares from both of them. "She barely talks to anyone, she only does the bare minimum required." Iðunn's voice was mixed between melancholy and apathy, speaking of the Sister-Wife of Njǫrðr. It was known she was rather introverted, and like in Heath's original, she is rarely spoken about.
"Do you need help? I am able to harden and accelerate the crops." Heath got a pat on his arm by both of them, grateful for the asking, but both declining, for he had already given them enough with the 10 fjórðungr of fast-growing berry seeds of multiple types.[1]
"As you said, these gene-edited berries alone would be enough to feed our population many times over with their accelerated germination and long-lastingness. We will be alright." They now say goodbye to Heath, readying to finally go back home. Well, not before suddenly being stopped by Skaði, the Dís (High Goddess,) coming in for communication in regards of her Bróðir Wulþuz (Ullr). He focuses on her gift, a skin pelt held in front of her as a present for him. "Why so?" Heath asks, knowing she knew nothing of him.
"Your bear hide cape is not to our standard." Curt and tactless, just the way Heath expected it. He takes off the one still hanging off one side of his armour and then replaces it with the one they provided, the symbol of the Völsung stitched in with Deific quality.
"I-, well, thank you!" The cape itself was of a much finer quality than when he had made his original on the second day he had arrived in this realm. His thanks were expected, but his genuine gratitude to the present led to Skaði giving a smile in return. He checks the inside of it, seeing it was lined with a mesh material of different blessed creatures in an interlocking pattern down to a finger nail's width, were it not for Heath's capable sight, it would be hard to tell where it would start and where it would end.
"I can feel the blessings coming off of it, quite powerful in their own right, to what has been added. Do you mind me asking what they are for?" Heath's perusal of information in such a tone, treating her as an equal while being an outsider, was a breath of fresh air for many of them.
Skaði enjoyed speaking with someone who enjoyed studying their own unique path of magic, as finding someone who wanted to learn knowledge without being power-hungry was rare in a realm such as theirs. She shared freely, knowing he would do the same with his own in the future. "That there, using the blessing of a svín (pig) causes the jǫfurr-læknanœði (Boar (King)'s-Wrathful Healing) state. Your strikes now strengthened the more hurt you are, and the greater your anger, the faster you rejuvenate." She refocuses onto the next stitching.
"Here is one of a gaupa (lynx,) allowing you to see the hidden truths of concepts and objects you glance at when under your sight as a hyldfinnandr (Finder of Secrets.)" Lastly, she points to the black, furry leather used to emboss the pattern of the Clan's logo.
"This, is that of a fjallrisar-leðrblaka (giant mountain bat,) the power of bats providing you with a toughened soul and greater resistances to magical ailments." She sounded proud with that one, the wings of those creatures being notoriously hard to work with. "How long has this taken all of you to make?" Heath asks, the response being an even wider grin from Skaði than before, appearing rather pretty upon her features. "8 nights, prepared the sun's rising beforehand, for we knew you would come at some point." She tipped her leather hunter's helm, satisfied.
"As well, I am sorry that my Faðirbróðir (Uncle) Iði was rather, let us say, energetic?" She tried to put it nicely, but that was met with an eyeroll by Heath, turning closer to instinct. "It is all right, he was honest, which is what matters." Heath understood that these people were rather forthright, so it was to be expected.
"I will be going now. Maybe in the future, we can help teach you greater leather working?" She gave him a long stare upon his face, making it hard to turn down. "I will come back once I have the time. I promise." A committal response. She leaves in expectation, leather dress swaying as she walks, and her hair fluttering behind her as if going down a mountain when moving. She turned a corner and gave a final scanning look before turning away. 'Was it me, or did she seem to be expecting me to do something?' Heath pretends nothing happened after.
He continues greeting a few people, normal village-folk and the few minor hǫrgvarðir (sanctuary guards) who Heath walks around the village with, both for him being a stranger and in case of others' sight of a foreigner was made awry. But with Heath's normal attitude, it was mostly slack.
It took a while to adjust himself to the passive status effects provided by the small one-sided cloak. He had scanned it multiple times in secret, seeing how its internal mechanisms in great detail from how she had described it and using his sigil in checking for specifications. ". . . This is incredible work." Heath comments in commendation, much of this knowledge is hard to gain even a scratch of understanding from how complicated the inlaying of set alchemical pathways was made under multiple partnered layers.
"They are our joy with their proficiency in many arts." Beyla, the captain of Freyja's guard, agrees with his assumption. Why was he here? He had been asked to protect Heath when in Vanaheimr in hopes of gaining a way of communication with him.
The great scientist God was exhaustedly weary. "You know you had no reason to follow me, Beyla. Yes, it is good. But I have told her many a time I, am, not, ready." Heath teethes through his gums. But that earned a shake of his head. "I have no choice but to follow. I am the strongest of my group." His eyebrows raised, with his hand raising and pointing now towards their destination. "I will wait outside, in there is where another wishes to meet you." Beyla opens the door, showing the interior of this small house leading into an open-plan kitchen-lounge mix.
Heath walks in with the door closing behind him gently, soon coming to be beside a gray-haired dvergr of intelligent wisety who wore a simple Gjermundbu helmet and chainmail vestige. Gandálfr the wand-bearer was there in full show, the inspiration for Gandalf from Lord of the Rings himself!
He was sitting by the fireplace, toasting his armour and keeping himself warm with him used to the continued heat of his mountain hearth. He sees the man he was looking for, Heath, standing there and in rapt attention for finding a rarely talked about character in the myths. He was waved to sit upon the stool next to his, now both of them sitting side to side by the fire, enjoying the comforting environment. "I have a gift for you, all the same." An aged, arthritic hand shakily grabbed a tome kept upon a bookshelf, all for Heath's use.
"For your golems' workmanship." He slowly says, age having caught up with him long ago. "In fixing our homes and lives." A single tear ran down Gandálfr's cheek, history unsaid from the unmet demands of their people.
"Open it." Gandálfr asks while walking over to his desk to grab his herbal tea, the flames flickering in his shadowy backdrop of the windowless cottage. Heath does as told, finding information on an ancient canopy known as the Mímameiðr and its counterpart lake Mímisbrunnr, protected by the vittrorvelfar (River spirits) that are the sons of one known as ᛊᛗᛖᚱ (*ˢmer- (Mímir)), with actual names in this realm compared to the myths of his own. Surrounding the tree-spawn, second strongest only behind Yggdrasill. With wood greater than any metal.
"Mímir's children know much, and will see your goodness of heart." Gandálfr notes, slowly lifting his mug to drink. "I do not know if I am good." Heath backs down, but was met with a 'if you say so' stare by the old dvergr, who knows something meaningful will be gained either way.
"Alright. And as all said, thank you." Heath leaves the home, now finally ready for this small quest. He warps to the provided location after checking that everyone of the people in noticed had travelled safely through the portal to the Cavern, none-malevolent or otherwise a spy and quick to please with a new home, Heath felt ready, and to the ancient tree he went. Through a barrier to enter the private realm, he soon came face-to-face with Rennaristraumr (Stream (River) runner,) Goðiregnr (Invoker of rain) and Hríðbanr (Bane of storms.)[2]
Heath first went past the mystifying maze: If one did not follow the correct path, it would cause one to be stranded there for eternity. Next, he went past the glacially cold rapids that were a split within Ginnungagap's Élivágar River that delivers endless frigid waters to Miðgarðr, and lastly led 'underground' to Helheimr, mainly to the River Sliðr.
Passing the river in thanks to the new Divine cloak without flying as the test required, he reaches the next level, a test of strength: To move an iron anvil weighing 100 fjórðungr ≈ (508.0240-Kg (1120.00121-Lbs)) across 5 leagues. ≈ (34,342.9969-Model m (11.1000-km (6.8973-mi).) As you may imagine, the test was easy for someone as strong as Heath, more than likely designed to test the strongest of mortals instead. Passing this test, then came one for intelligence, giving mathematics and philosophy questions that were also answered too quickly.[3]
Heath came close to finishing before a voice halted him. "LEAVE! Gods are restricted from here!" The unknown combatant's transparent body formed itself into something more ballooned, a rounded and defensive form that increasingly built internal pressure, they called the air's humidity to increase his size while drying his surroundings. Readying to battle.
"I do not come with bad intentions! Gandálfr permitted me to come to you." The name-dropping caused the slowly building up power to be instead maintained at its current level, still suspicious of the newcomer. "Who are you?" The voice crashed into him with a sputtering of water and cold air. "Heath Dollen of the mennskrðrútan. I come seeking greater knowledge in repose for my people of the Völsung Clan. Here is the elder's letter." He sets it down upon the water, the vittra carrying it to himself while keeping an eye.
Through reading it, much of the outside world's inference allowed him to be clued in, he had already heard many rumours supposing this great scientist God, and now he has come to them with the favour of their old friend to entertain this notion. "So you are the victor against the Dróttningvættr (Spiritual Queen.)" They close the letter, now looking deeper into Heath.
"I am Rennaristraumr, a first challenge through the gates to see the tree." They send a mote of water through the gate, as to say to allow this challenger through with information on what happened. "In order of our father, we are to protect his belongings to see who is worthy." He knocks his amorphous, watery legs into the floor, preparing a battle stance. "The first is for you to enter this gate with me." The arms retract, having only his stump-esque body charged for all attacks. "Begin!" He stayed still, ready for a worst-case scenario.
But that wording, 'with' me rather than 'through' me, made Heath fall through a loop. He remembered an ancient challenge, where one must do a goal, anything really, that was blocked by a person who guarded it as a trope, where, rather than fighting the guardian, you asked for permission to win.
To test one's humility, resolve and personality. Heath did not ready any of his weapons and walked calmly through the still water, lastly coming face to face with Rennaristraumr. He holds his chest with a palm over the area where his heart would be. Showing respect to its contents. "Esteemed vǫrðgata (Gatekeeper.) I, seeker of your father's prize, ask if I am allowed to pass your hurdle?" Heath's first reaction to asking rather than battling had confused Rennaristraumr. For were Gods not known to be headstrong and boorish? This broke his notion.
"Well, you are a first." Rennaristraumr broke into a smile, never in all of his existence seeing anyone of myth act like this. "You may, Lord Dollen." The gate opened at an impossibly fast pace, and with the next two not hearing any fighting, they knew it meant it was a true win.
"I welcome you, great scientist God!" Goðiregnr next spoke for both him and his brother, a giant, non-humanoid closest resemblant to a slime that was acting as if talking with a peer, his voice unnaturally high-pitched and bubbling per syllable. "This next step of yours shall be a deciding factor, to wade within me and pass the trials." Part of the otherwise opaque solution began marking itself as more transparent, the light showing around the opposite side of his body. "If you do not succeed, you will be removed without further notice."
Heath moved in quickly, slowly phasing through the material and soon reaching the first example: An ethical challenge. He was put in an environment where he must either save himself while leaving everyone else to die, or he must commit suicide for the others to survive.
Heath immediately chose the latter, stabbing a hole through his neck and passing to the next section. "-are you suicidal?" Goðiregnr asked, worried that it was so quick. "*Heh*Somebody else had asked me that before. I simply believe one life is worth less than many innocents." Heath soon found the next challenge being that if one must commit an action to save many while leaving fewer lives to die, or the other, or if one is inactive, it will lead to many to die and less to live, what would he choose? He chose the former.
"Inactivity is just as bad as committing an action when one has the direct method to alter it." He provided justification, silently telling himself on repeat in his head that these tests were of false people, to keep his sanity from hearing the screams.
The final report now, if one were to choose the life of an elderly person close to their death bed or the life of a baby, who would they save? He chose the baby to live, believing that the potential of the young one would provide another full life while the elder had already experienced one of comfort. "You know, you are doing this too quickly." Goðiregnr's voice cut in. "Let us give you one last challenge." This one was more materialistic, not involving lives, but possessions. A droplet of liquid formed from the body of the slime.
"Drink it, for it will determine if one is telling the truth or not." Heath, of course, did so. Hoping that giving this trust was worth it, it tasted like battery acid mixed with dog saliva, but he managed. "Now, tell me. What do you wish for?" That led to a pause.
"*Hu~*" Heath breathed out, digging deep through his morality to lead to this conclusion. "I have wished to see my dead girlfriend too much for comfort, but I know in my heart it is not the correct choice." He spits out, forcing a necessity through the slow choking of his throat. "I-, I. . . Wish to help my people! Even if it means my death." That was rather quick, the previous tester having greed for endless pleasures when chanced. Now, his was a rather selfless motive, and he gave his honest opinion on knowing it was a futile hope to find his love again.
"Almost too perfect a response." Goðiregnr gave as light banter, opening his gate and leading to the final step. "I had expected you to fight in drinking that serum, especially with that taste." Rennaristraumr says along the sidelines, clapping his watery palms together.
"I have known worse." Heath comments, one time having to eat a mouldy sandwich from his barracks after leaving it out over a few days, being made to do so by his Sergeant. He pushes away that memory before walking through. Now, he is in front of Hríðbanr, the final test where one must test their strength in battle. "I FORFEIT!" Hríðbanr immediately opens the gate. "What?" Heath's head fell into his neck, wondering if this was a trick. "No, it is not a trick. I saw your battle against the Dróttningvættr (Spiritual Queen!) YOU WERE BRUTAL!" The muscular body of foamy saline squirmed under the hard stare of Heath.
"Are you sure?" Heath raised an eyebrow. "Positive." Was the last response before he was forced to be pushed into his prize by all 3 together. Mímameiðr, the giant evergreen covering his view in entirety, the wood's exterior appearing as strong as a modern Grade C350 maraging steel alloy.
Heath looked towards the brothers, all now crowding in one portion of the lake Mímisbrunnr, near to where the immortal fish were petted and cooed in turn. "Cute." Heath joins in. Why would he not?
[1] From Chapter 10: Red / blackcurrants, bilberries, blackberries, cloudberries, crowberries, elderberries, hackberries, juniperberries and lingonberries.
[2] In Old Norse, the suffix for Storm, Rain or Stream would appear first before the effect that would come after, if there are issues with the translation, please tell me in text!
[3] A league is 7,500 'Roman feet,' which is a different measurement from modern feet: (Theirs is 0.296-m, while ours is 0.3048-m) 0.296 x 7,500 = 2.2200, x5 = ≈ 34,342.9969-Model m (11.1000-km (≈ 6.8973-mi).)