Started playing Valheim again so thought I'd dust off the fic I wrote for our adventures!
Chapter 1: Awaken
“Get up.”
She winced; the sun filtering through the trees was painfully bright, and she put up a hand to block it out.
“Odin’s finest, indeed! Get up!”
She tried to answer the rough voice, but her tongue felt slow, her head heavy, and a sharp pain started to make itself known just under her shoulder. A rock? She twisted, and felt the pebble dislodge, relieving the pressure. Why am I lying on a rock?
“Get up, before I decide your eyes are worth more to me than they are to you!”
The voice was harsh, and came from somewhere to her left. She rolled, heaving herself to her knees, ready to fight off… something, when -
“If you come anywhere near my eyes, I’ll wring your fluffy little neck, crow.” A gruff voice sounded just ahead of her, and through her squinting eyes she caught a glimpse of a hand, leaning on the ground in front of her.
She started slightly; she hadn’t realised there were others. Forcing her eyes open against the glare, she looked up. In front of her was a man, who seemed to be doing a better job of getting to his feet than she was; he looked tense, like he was waiting for something. Around her were 3 more men, all looking as groggy and confused as she felt, but her eyes passed over them quickly to take in their surroundings.
They were all gathered in a stone circle. Carvings on the monoliths around them depicted monstrous beings, and for a moment she almost felt as if she could name the creatures there… but frustratingly, the words slipped away as she tried to voice them.
There was a rough cackle, and her head snapped back around. Atop a smaller stone was a large black bird, and as it tilted it’s head to take her in, she could have sworn she saw a flash of blue in one eye.
“Crow! Crow, he calls me! Odin’s finest, indeed!” The bird was speaking, and the more it spoke, the more she felt the fog lift from her mind.
Odin. I know that name. How do I know that name? Is it my name? No. A safe name. A name to instil fear. I know Odin’s name. He is… Father? Allfather.
Her eyes widened.
Odin!
She tried to stand, and was dimly aware of the others in the stone circle coming to the same realisation she had, before her legs buckled beneath her and she found herself back on one knee. The man in front glanced over his shoulder at her.
“Aye, give it time,” he called, “nothing quite works yet. Except my ears, to hear this racket.” And he jerked his head at the bird, who cackled again.
“And your tongue, to mock the messenger of the Gods! A crow! Indeed! For that I may tell my brother to never grace you with his presence after all!”
The pebble she’d been lying on was near her hand, and without thinking she picked it up, feeling its rough surface against her skin, feeling the weight as she turned it over in her palm. She found herself staring thoughtfully at the bird, and realised she could probably hit it. Her arm tingled, as if asking her to use it and send the stone flying towards it’s target.
“You’re more likely to hit the oaf in front of you, and that’s no way to start a war band now, is it?”
The bird was staring at her intently, almost as if it knew her thoughts, and she dropped the stone hastily. It was impossible to say, but the bird seemed almost smug at her reaction.
There was a laugh to her side; it looked like the others had also fallen to their knees in much the same way she had when trying to stand too swiftly, and one was now simply lying on his back again. He laughed again, and waved a hand in the air above him in the general direction of the bird.
“We’re a sorry state for a war band, honoured messenger,” he flopped his arm back down at his side. “Perhaps you could tell us where we are, or who we’re meant to war against? This place seems familiar, but I fear I drank too much mead last night and my senses are dulled.”
Mead. Her mouth salivated slightly as the memory of sweetness rushed over her tongue. She knew what mead was. Of course she knew. She could taste it. It was -
It was –
It slipped away, and she cursed under her breath.
“Were we at the same feast?” One of the other men hauled himself to standing, leaning on a stone marked with a- with the shape of a- leaning on one of the stones for support. “My head feels like it’s filled with thatching, although I don’t believe I recognise you.”
“I don’t recognise any of you, either,” the final one spoke softly from where he was kneeling, eyes taking everything in carefully. “Although, I’m not sure I recognise me. Tell me, what are the names of those I find myself in the company of? Maybe that will help wake me all the way up.”
She opened her mouth to give it, then closed it again. Her name? That should be easy. She knew her name. She knew who she was. It was her name – who she was. She knew that. All she had to do was speak it.
The silence stretched on, and she realised no-one else had spoken either. She cursed again. Why could she remember how to curse, but not her own name?
“It will come back to you,” the harshness of the bird’s voice seemed gentler somehow, as if it knew what they were all wrestling with, “as will most things. My brother tells me that if you pick things up, touch them, they will remind you how to use them. Maybe you will find something here that tells you your name as well. Memories are not my domain; I cannot say one way or the other.”
“Raven,” she blurted, and felt self-conscious as everyone turned to stare at her. “You’re- you’re not a crow. You’re a raven. A- a special one, although I can’t- ” she trailed off, mentally reaching for knowledge she knew she had somewhere.
Once again, the silence stretched on between them all, until the Raven spoke again.
“Well, as you are now all awake,” it proclaimed, and that blue glint flicked over it’s eye so fast she thought she may have imagined it. It spread its wings, and bowed low over the stone it was perched on.
“Welcome, Odin’s chosen, to Valheim!”
