“Riding the Valkyrie“
By Maria Tanager
Copyright 2012 Maria Tanager
Smashwords Edition
This is a work of fiction. All characters and institutions are products of the author's imagination, used fictitiously. All characters depicted in sexual situations are consenting adults of at least eighteen years of age and unrelated by blood.
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When Gram the rugged Viking swordsman regained consciousness, he found himself flat on his back on the cold, muddy ground. Though sore, chilly and tired, he forced himself to stand and look around. He was alone in the middle of an open field surrounded by a forest of tall trees; there were no visible signs of nearby civilization. The time seemed to be late afternoon verging on evening, though the sun’s light was heavily filtered by cloud cover, making it difficult to judge for certain. It had been raining until quite recently; his tunic was completely soaked, as was the wolf hide he wore draped around himself as a cape.
Gram tried to remember why he’d come to this place, but his memories were strangely blurred and it was hard to focus. Only hazy, fragmented recollections of the recent past floated through his mind: his familiar sword thirsting in his hand for sacrifices; the metallic smells of blood and sweat; voices screaming in the triumph of victory and the agony of defeat; an axe blade gleaming ominously, reflecting a beam of sunlight as it swung towards him. Yes, he vaguely remembered the battle, but something seemed wrong…
An unexpected sound beats behind him startled Gram and he turned abruptly, mentally cursing himself for such carelessness. There stood an armored figure mounted on a tall, powerful gray war horse. In another moment Gram’s surprise doubled as he realized this was a lovely young woman. What was a lone woman doing here?
She looked to be in her early twenties. From beneath her helmet, Gram could see her face—with its piercing blue eyes and dainty nose—framed by short, blonde hair. She carried in one hand a long, heavy spear tipped with a wickedly sharp blade that looked sufficient to slay a bear with one blow. The rest of her physical charms were concealed beneath a suit of leather and chain mail armor. Gram, intrigued, couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander to the mystery of her body. How much padding lay below her ample chest plate?
As if in response to his thoughts, the woman smiled mischievously at Gram and gazed up and down along his body, sizing him up. Gram knew that he was not the most handsome man of his village, for he was bald and bore an assortment of scars. But his rugged, battle-honed body was living proof of his great physical prowess as a locally renowned swordsman. With his large frame and well-developed physique, he’d never lacked for female companionship. This mysterious woman, too, seemed to approve of what she saw. She smiled again and licked her lips before she spoke.
“Hail to you, Gram, son of Hrothgar.”
“Who are you?” Gram asked cautiously, impressed by and attracted to this mysterious woman but also keenly aware that he himself was unarmed and had no mount. He would be at an enormous disadvantage if she proved to be his enemy. Judging from the effortless ease with which she bore her heavy equipment, this woman must be remarkably physically fit and well-trained. She would surely be more than a match for him, especially in his current tired and disoriented state.
Again, as if knowing his thoughts, the beautiful stranger raised her free hand in a peaceful gesture of greeting. “Valorous one, I bring you good news. I am called Hildr, one of the Valkyrie.”
A Valkyrie: one of the spirit warrior-maidens pledged to serve the mighty god Odin. Expert warriors and combat tacticians, boasting skill far surpassing the capabilities of any human, they supervised battles from the spirit realm but seldom directly interfered in mortal affairs. However, it was well-known in Viking legend that the Valkyries observed mortal warfare closely. The strongest, smartest and most experienced human warriors might impress a watching Valkyrie with their combat prowess and brave deeds. These talented elite, when slain in combat, could be chosen by a Valkyrie to ascend to the afterlife of Valhalla.
“Have I died?” he asked, not particularly surprised when the Valkyrie nodded to confirm his suspicion. Hearing the news was less distressing than Gram had always assumed it would be. True, he felt a pang of regret at leaving the mortal realm behind, but he’d slain countless tough opponents over the course of his twenty-seven years. His was a death to be proud of—a fitting end for a fighter such as himself. It would only have shamed his honor had he died of old age or illness. Such unimpressive deaths were for lesser men than he.
While he contemplated the fact of his death, the Valkyrie continued calmly with her message. “As you know, all men aspire to reach Valhalla, the paradise for all true warriors. But only those few who truly distinguish themselves in battle are worthy of this great privilege. Gram, son of Hrothgar, I have chosen you as one of the victorious. Come with me now. Let us depart to your reward.” Hildr reached out to him.
He clasped her hand with his, noticing the softness of her skin in comparison with his own rough calluses. She pulled him up to sit behind her on the horse’s back. “I will escort you there. You should hold onto my waist. If you were to fall off my horse during our journey, your spirit might be lost.”
“Gladly,” Gram agreed. He leaned forward and wrapping his strong arms around her waist, hugging her from behind. Then without another word, she turned her steed around and nudged him into a canter. They rode in dreamlike silence across the field and through the deep forest. All was quiet and still. Thick fog set in around them as they traveled, so that they seemed to be moving through an interminable tunnel of trees.
Gram enjoyed the excuse to hold the Valkyrie in his arms. Though Hildr was spiritual rather than mortal, the Valkyrie felt as fully solid as any living women he’d known—perhaps even more vivid to him now. The warmth of Hildr’s body heat flowed into Gram, soothing his residual aches and bruises. His thoughts turned towards the floral scent of her hair and the electrifying touch of her skin on his own.