The Tale of Bjornodd
This was a short story submission for a contest (one of my two entries) for a contest held by Jessica Elwood involving her made up world, the Realm of Valis, which is meant to have a low-fantasy sort of setting (think Conan the Barbarian). This has some nudity, but no yiff whatsoever. What I like the most about this story is the fact that I used two of my favorite characters, yet they played secondary roles for once.
- * * The Tale of Bjornodd Samuel Previs "Tell me, Bjornodd... what is strength?" The small bear sat before his father in the snow, looking up to the mountainous figure whom perched on a rock. It was tradition of the tribe to go to top of the mountain, their home, upon the day that a child became an adult, to educate them for one full week in the ways of the sword, and in the ways of the gods of Nordheim. Thus was the decree made centuries ago by the only female to have led the tribe, Vixia the Pitiless. "Strength," the younger bear began, "Is the power of one's arm. It is the ability to kill your enemies with ease, and to prove your place among your people." The world became a blinding field of black and stars, and the younger bear awoke to find his father standing over top of him. "Fifteen winters," the larger warrior began, gesturing towards the endless mountains of the north, "Fifteen winters, and you have yet to learn the greatest lesson your fool of a father has to teach you. What is strength?" The adult watch the child struggle to stand, reading the anger in his son's face. "Strength is more than the power of the arm or the leg! Any runt can lift stones until he becomes the strongest in the land! And anyone can kill another as easily as sneaking into their hut with a dagger in the night!" He climbed onto the rock again, and bulled from the snow his battleaxe, handed to him by his father after wresting it from the dead hand of an Amurian. He held it aloft, and Bjornodd would swear, even upon his dying breath, that the wind rushing though the craggy mountains, made the blade vibrate, and sing a cold, yet beautiful, song of death and war. "What is strength?" His father said again. "Strength," Bjornodd said again, his eyes closed, as he heard the singing of the axe, and spoke the message its song spoke unto him, "Is the power of the mind, the heart, and the spirit. Without the spirit, the heart is full of fear. Without the heart, the mind is clouded and without sight. Without the mind, the spirit has nothing in which to dwell, and give guidance to the heart." The father smiled, and placed his massive paw on his son's shoulder. "And that," the father said, "Is why you will become a greater warrior than I. You have learned the final lesson I have to teach you. You must learn the rest for yourself: sharpen your mind, embolden your heart, and purify your spirit. You only serve one master; yourself. No god, no beast, no giant or mortal, can command your true strength. Your heart, mind, and spirit, exist to serve you." Thus, as the snows began to settle on the land of endless winter, Bjornodd left to rejoin his people at the bottom of the mountain, where once an adult and a child had climbed the snow and ice covered rocks, there descended two adults. "You there, bear. You are next." Many years had past. Many slaves were gathered to fight in the arena this day. After all, it was the birthday of Praetor Augustis, and to celebrate, had paid for a full day of blood; all matches were to be fought to the death, from sunrise to sunset. They all sat on the benches, most of them the more experienced fighter, while the occasional fresh slave among them trembled in terror at the thought of their imminent deaths, prayed to various deities, or soiled themselves. The black bear looked up, towards the driver, and stood, holding out his shackled hands. The roaring thunder of the crowd, the familiar scent of blood and sand, the hot sun burning through his dark fur... Bjornodd, the great black bear of Nordheim, felt the sand beneath his bare feet. He slid onto his black-haired head the spiked helmet, and beat the fur and chain armor which protected his breast. He lifted his axe in his left paw, and tightened the straps to his wooden shield. He breathed in the dusty air, and let that energetic excitement he felt before a fight come unto him. As always, before every fight, be experienced the greatest rush overcome him. The world grew brighter. Every slight movement, from the movements of the cheering crowd to the shifting of the grains of sand in the wind, was caught by his eye. The world became more silent, but in that silence, not a sound escaped his ears. A single heartbeat lasted for an eternity. "People of the Capitol City, citizens of Valoria! You've seen him fight in the sands before, and today he faces his greatest challenge! Will this be the final fight for the Black Barbarian? Let the battle begin!" "Bjornodd... HEY! Wake up!" Bjornodd grunted and turned over at the beck of a prodding in his back, looking towards the small group of males and females. All of them were warriors of the northern lands, and had set aside the differences in their peoples, in their tribes, to work together. The one who had called to him, a short, but broad, wolf, a Mengladi with red hair upon his head, and a great thick beard that reached his waist, prodded him with his footpaw again. "If yer going to be asleepin', do it after we been discussing how to escape from here. After all, t'was yer plan." Bjornodd sat up and brushed the wolf's prodding leg away. "Devils spit, Fridwulf, prod me with that footpaw again, and you'll find me using it as my weapon in the arena tomorrow." Fridwulf merely chuckled and turned towards the fire, and into the eyes of the other 6 warriors. One of them, a female wolf, stamped her foot into the dirt of their temporary cage. "Quiet," she said, a stern look in her eyes. The tattoo covered shaman from Amur was well known for her brutality, and thus commanded a deal of respect from the males surrounding her. "Tomorrow is the day. We will either die slaying many of these weak Valorians, or we escape to our home." "I would prefer life, but I will gladly go down amidst a pile of fallen foes, Genevive," said a muscular boar, who claimed to hail from Arian, his sparse, greasy black hair, hanging over his eyes. One tusk was broken and the other one bearing an engraved rune which translated into 'savage', or, more commonly, 'berserker'. He bore a menacing grin, and all could tell he anticipated the fighting before them. "Do not be so hasty to fight, Sverting," said another bear, this one golden-brown of fur, with yellow hair like the sun and eyes as blue as a frozen lake. He was by far the tallest one among them all, "If we work together, stick together, and use our heads, we will come out of this alive." "Bah! There is a special place in the after-life for those of us who choose to die fighting." "Enough of this!" the female wolf said. She pointed to the floor before her feet, and bent, to the crudely drown map in the dirt. She looked over to Bjornodd, and nodded, "To make sure we all understand it, what's the plan?" The black bear nodded and leaned over, marking in the dirt as he spoke. "We will begin at my signal, during a transition to begin another fight after my own, and with the guards dead, we escape out the back entrance with as little uproar as possible. From there we split up-" "I'll be damned if we split up!" roared Fridwulf, clapping a hand onto the back of the golden bear. "Jerohan and I here have been friends for years, and I'll be damned if I split up from him just to save m'self." Bjornodd smiled to himself. Of all the warriors gathered for this plan, the Mengladi wolf and the Nordheimer bear were the oddest pair. From what they told, they had left their respective homes early in life to seek fortunes of their own, and had met and teamed up in a bar fight gone out of control. The partnership had lasted even until now. "Regardless," Jerohan said, "we must take different paths, whether we choose to bring a partner with us or not. Until nightfall tomorrow, we are on our own." He looked over to his friend and smiled before the wolf could interject, "Save for you two. Now, please, Bjornodd, continue." "After we split up," spoke Bjornodd, without missing a beat, "as Jerohan said, we are on our own. We will meet up at the temple of the Valorian gods, and from there, we can make our way to northern gates, and kill anyone we have need to in order to escape. Once we're there, and our enemies hound us no more, we go our own ways." "Aaaah... how I long for my home of Genji," spoke one other warrior, a small tiger who clearly relied more on his speed and guile than his brute strength, a one-of-a kind among the group. The others had seen him preferring to practice using his own limbs for a fight than rely on sword or spear. He had told them all his name, but everyone found it too difficult to pronounce, and so everyone just called him by the name of his homeland. "And that, Genji, is why we fight tomorrow," spoke the black bear, shifting in his spot, "I'm sure we all can say we have had enough of fighting just to amuse these Valorian peasants." "Guard!" Immediately everyone lay down and closed their eyes, pretending to sleep very well. They heard foot steps pass by; Bjornodd had no need to fear about the fire, for the nights were cold, and so fires in the slave cages were common. The footsteps faded, but none dared to move for some time. They had to make sure he was away. Bjornodd thought. This plan... it was too much like a suicide mission. But, the bear figured, that's probably why everyone was involved, why they were so enthusiastic about it; they would either live freely, or die killing their captors. No one, no beast, god, giant or mortal could command him. No one could command his strength- The bear's thoughts were interrupted by a prodding in his back, and Fridwulf's voice breaking the silence, "Bah! Gone and fallen yerself asleep again, have ye?" Bjornodd brushed the footpaw prodding him away and sat up, looking to the Mycinian lion that had been keeping an eye out for the guards. The lion looked the bear in the eye, and the two nodded to each other. The lion fought in the typical fasion of the Mymidons; with spear and sword and shield, but he was relentless, and kept his cool in the midst of a fight, something which set him apart from most of the group assembled there that night. "And what," spoke Hector, the Myrmidon, in his level tone, "if you do not live? The plan relies on you coming out alive." Bjornodd nodded, and leaned over to the map, rubbing it away with his massive paw, "Then it will be up to the next fighter to follow through. When, and if, they are victorious, then they shall begin our battle for freedom. Now, let us rest. Tomorrow is the day. Let us all fight well, and kill many. On my command, after my fight." The gates across the coliseum opened, and out poured four males. The coliseum, instead of its usual open arena, was littered with piles of stone rubble, broken columns, and other 'debris' that made the arena look like a warn-torn town of a battlefield. The bear charged in and turned, ran, turned. He wanted to get lost in the maze of debris. Get lost, and the enemy would get lost. If they got lost, the more likely they were to break up and hunt solo. He stood against one broken column that stood tall, and looked around it. Sure enough, there was only one of the enemies there; a lithe cat of some sort, sporting a sickle in either of his paws. Bjornodd came around and charged, not yelling, rather trying to get the element of surprise. It didn't work, thanks to the crowd, which took up a wild cheer at seeing the first bit of blood about to be spilled in this fight. The cat stepped foreward and swung both of his sickles at once, and the giant bear only held up his shield, the thud of bronze on wood the signal to strike. Bjornodd lowered his shield and rose the axe up high, striking downwards at the cat. The cat proved to be the more dextrous, and ducked low, swiping a blade at the Nordheimer's thigh. There was a sharp pain, and dampness filled his fur, the warrior ignored it, and brought the wooden shield down hard on the cat's head. The cat was laid low, but struggled to bring himself up. His effort was met only with the thunderous roar of the crowd, and the flash of the barbarian's axe. From around the corner from whence Bjornodd came emerged a lizardman of the Isle of Myr. It screeched and charged the bear. He had only enough time to raise his shield to block as the primitive beast lay blow after blow upon the wooden shield with his heavy club. Bjornodd was forced back, but gained his footing and swung his axe. The lizard beast blocked with his shield made of scaly hide, and the axe caught in the hide. Bjornodd tugged, but the lizardman refused to relinquish his shield. The lizardman raised his club once more and brought it into Bjornodd's shield, and the force caused the bear's arm to go numb. The creature of Myr brought the club around in a circle, level with the barbarian's head, and the bear did the only thing he could; he let go of his axe. Falling back, the bear took the time it took for the lizardman to regain his balance and prevent the club from hitting himself. With a tremendous roar, Bjornodd brought his shield foreward, and slammed the edge of his shield straight into the beast's muzzle. The lizardbeast stepped back, stunned, for only a moment; and a moment was more than the Black Barbarian needed. Again the shield slammed into the lizardman's head, and with each strike the people of Valoria cheered. Soon his opponent collapsed, and the bear wrested his axe from the shield of the foe. The crowd cheered as he quickly dealt with the unconscious fighter. Bjornodd, wasting no time, trudged on through the rubble of the arena, and came to the point where the last two stood before him. Ferociously charged the first, a brown stallion which, whether by choice or force, had entered the fight only with only his bardiche, and thus exposing the full glory of his body to the eyes of the Valorians and the gods. But the stallion, in the Black barbarian's mind, was not the bigger threat; it was the hare, fur as brown as dirt, that had climbed and perched upon the top of a pillar, longbow in hand, arrow notched and drawn. The bear had only a scant moment to raise his shield, as the arrow thudded into the wood. As shield came to meet arrow, bardiche came low and to the bear's gut, seeking blood. The barbarian, though, was not yet ready to die, lowered his axe to parry the incoming bardiche; barely. The axe was knocked into his body, and the edge of the blade just cut the faintest amount of flesh beneath the bear's fur. Bjornodd retaliated to the attack by pressing forward, pressing against the stallion's bare chest with shield, and the Nordheimer brought his axe in from the side. The stallion met axe with bardiche, and stepped aside, and the bear, once again, was forced to prevent his premature death from the hare's arrow. And as Bjornodd stopped the arrow, so came another attack from the stallion. The bear of Nordheim's eyes widened as he felt the shield bend, and heard the unmistakable crack of wood beneath iron. The bear stepped back, drawing the stallion further away from the hare, then moved in again, from to the side, and knocked the shield into the side of the black stallion. His opponent staggered to the side, and Bjornodd followed through with his axe, and found it blocked by the bardiche. The stallion took the weapon back and swung, a mighty, ferocious blow; but Bjornodd simply ducked, and as the stallion stood with his arms out wide, the black bear struck him with a well-placed blow to the ribs. The stallion let the bardiche drop, and Bjorondd prepared to finish him off, but stopped, and grabbed the stallion, moving him in front of him as another arrow came speeding to claim his life. The arrow, instead, claimed the head of the stallion. He didn't give the hare another chance to fire with him in the open. Bjorondd ran for a pile of rubble and thre himself behind it, out of the hare's sight. He looked to his shield; it had broken in half. Having no need of it, the bear cast it aside. How would he take the hare down? He pounded his fist upon the stones beneath him- and realization dawned on him, brighter than any sun. He took a large stone in paw, hefted it for good measure, and stood- then ducked again, as an arrow came straight for him. Immediately the bear stood again, and with a mighty roar, chucked the stone with accuracy that proved to be truer than the hare's as it struck the archer in the stomach. Bjornodd didn't even wait to watch the hare fall, he knew it would happen. As the hare sat up, trying to stand and run, the barbarian bore down on him, and the crowd began to cheer more wildly than ever at another astonishing victory for Bjornodd. And in that instant of victory, the world seemed to return to normal. His heart was racing. The people's cheering was incomprehensible. The sands were still, and the world darkened. "Citizens of the Capitol City! The Black Barbarian has won yet again!" Bjornodd walked down the ramp, and the doors to the arena thudded to a close behind him. The arena would need to be cleared of the dead before the next fight. He entered the chambers where the weapons and armor were kept, and at the opposite wall were the cages, where many gladiators awaited victory or death. Bjornodd took his steps slowly. There were only five guards in the room, and they were widely spread. Two by the cages, two towards the ramp, and another one amidst the weapons, meant to observe gladiators as they chose their tools for the battle. He took a deep breath. His heart was still pounding, as if it itself anticipated the new fight; the fight Bjornodd knew might very well be his last. "Return your weapons," spoke one guard, a rather bored-looking rat, as Bjornodd approached the cages, where his allies watched, "lest I have yer hide keeping me warm this win- AAAAUGH!" The guard's voice had been broken by the axe of Bjornodd the barbarian, the steel flashing across the air to spilt helm and skull alike. Before his lion friend even had time to register that the black bear was attacking, Bjornodd struck again, this time cleaving the lion's head from his shoulders. Bjornodd acted fast, bending and taking the key's from the rat's belt and tossing it into the cage, where Genji deftly caught it and began unshackling everyone. Bjonodd stood and turned to face the guards, the one from the weapons rack charging around. He ducked low, grabbing the Valorian ferret and rolling him over his shoulders and tossing him to the ground. But the bear didn't have time to finish him off, and met the other two guards, swinging his axe mightily across. The fool guard that had tried to stop his axe with his spear found himself holding two halves of a spear, and the other one stepped to the side, stabbing at the black bear with a short sword. Bjornodd only had enough room to avoid a direct stab, the blade sliding across his mailed, chest. Bjornodd responded with a powerful fist to that guard's face, and took the time to finish off the one with the spear, the axe cleanly planted between his breasts. Ripping the axe out of its latest victim, Bjornodd met the next swinging sword by blocking with his axe. The guard the barbarian had tossed onto the ground came charging in, waving another one of those short swords common of Valorian troops, but the ferret never made it to the black bear; instead finding a spear-tip protruding from his chest, a spear held by a white-furred shaman woman. That gave Bjornodd time enough to plant his axe in the first swordsman, once, twice, thrice, fur and blood flying from the blade. Slaves poured from the cages, and someone else had begun moving to other cages, freeing the inhabitants. Bjornodd looked over the crowd and roared out his commands; hopefully they would be heard. "Everyone, grab weapons, shield, helms, everything you can get quickly! We will either have freedom, or death!" His words were meat by the enthusiastic cheers of prisoners and slaves alike. He moved over to the armor rack and took a hold of a round iron shield. It was heavier than the wooden shield, but undoubtedly stronger. Bjornodd looked and saw, oddly, that while everyone just picked up the first weapon that was closest to paw, or that caught their fancy, Jerohan and Fridwulf shuffled through the racks, as if searching hastily for something. "Jerohan, Fridwulf, what are you doing?" "When they took us prisoner..." Jerohan began. "...The dirty Valorian bastards took me axes and his sword, and we ain't leavin' without them!" Bjornodd just grunted. Let them fall behind, he decided, if they thought their weapons were that important. He went over to the large double-doors that led to the main gladiator yards, a separate area where fighters were kept overnight for the fights. The place was usually swarming with guards. Bjornodd made his way to the front, and turned to the slaves, some of them still fussing with their shackles and picking weapons. "This is it! This is where we fight! This is where we take our freedom back! We run through, kill the guards, and break down the gates into the forum. From there on out, its every fur for themselves!" The chamber was filled with the thunderous war cries of people ready to escape. Momentary enthusiasm, the bear knew. They feared the swords and the spears of the guards more than they craved freedom, and many of them would submit to cowardice if they did not get through fast. "Everyone, stick together, work together! Do not let the enemy break into our numbers, or we will surely be killed," the Mycenian yelled, holding aloft his spear and shield. Bjornodd turned to the door and placed his paws upon it, and breathed in deeply. This was it. The doors opened, sunlight filled the room, and Bjornodd felt himself being propelled forward by the charge of all the slaves and prisoners. Roaring filled his ears. He ran foreward into the dusty air, rank with the smells of the city and the slave pens. He ran ahead and at the first guard. They still had the element of surprise; Bjornodd's axe made sure the beast would only learn of what happened in the underworld. The people pressed in, and the guards came in from all around. Clearly, the Mycenian's advice and clear battle-expertise was wasted on the slaves, as soon everyone found themselves in a chaotic melee of blades and spears and shields. Bjornodd stopped and awaited the approach of one guard, armed with sword and spear. He came to the bear, thrusting. But the barbarian blonked with his shield, and came in with his axe. The Valorian pressed in with his shield, knocking the Nordheimer back. Another thrust, and Bjornodd sidestepped this one, bringing the axe in a swing that just barely scraped the shaft of the spear as it took the arm of the guard. As the Valorian screamed in pain, Bjornodd made ready to take his life, a gigantic hammer came down upon the skull of the guard. Bjornor saw only the back of the berserk boar as he roared a murderous war cry and swung a large hammer in both of his hands. Bjornodd pressed forward, shouting to the group of slaves to charge the gates. He looked over, and saw Genji and a few other slaves taking a wagon and turning it around, facing it at the gate. Bjornodd pointed with his shield, waving his axe around in the air. "To the wagon," he roared, "To the wagon! Ram down the gates!" A group of people moved, while many more continued to fight the guards. Bjornodd ran to the wagon, but found his path bared by a guard, who promptly cracked a long and many-tailed whip at his face. Bjornodd felt the pain sear his arm as the whip cut across it. He dropped the axe, and knelt for it, holding his shield up. But from the side of the slave driver came Fridwulf and Jerohan. The golden bear had a massive sword that was nearly as tall as he, and with a blade as wide as a broadsword, which he swung in both of his paws. Fridwulf, from the other side, had two double-bladed axes in his paws. Fridwulf's axes struck high and low, and Jerohan's sweeping sword cleaved the center, and the slave driver fell, cleaved into four pieces by the partners. The bear retrieved his axe, and made it to the wagon, pushing with all his might as he grabbed a hold of the side. Warriors and slaves poured in from all sides, as many people as possible taking a hold if it. Genji sat at the top with three others, using their weight to turn the wagon and direct it at the gate. They gained momentum, and the anticipating below of the crowd grew in volume as they drew ever closer to the gate, crying out loudly as they collided with the gate. The iron bars bent ans groaned, and a hinge broke, but the door stood still. "Again!" The wagon was pushed back, and everyone charged foreward. The run was not so far away this time, but the gate gave way, clanging loudly on the stone steps of the Forum. Citizens who had been watching the fight from the cobblestoned square now screamed and scattered. Bjornodd didn't even have to tell his companions. Immediately they all scattered, their powerful legs taking them into the crowd as the city guard arrived from their flank. The streets of the Capitol City were narrow, filthy, and crowded. The large black bear found himself shoving people aside more than running. From behind, in the many streets and alleys, he could hear the Valorian soldiers and guards yelling to each other as they persued him and his allies. He was getting nowhere fast. He needed to find a way to blend in. "Bjornodd, here!" The Nordheimer looked to his side, and saw Genevive beckoning from a narrow side alley. Without waiting, Bjornodd came to her. "I found some clothes, some sort of garb from Arsaces; they cover up nearly the whole body." Bjornodd looked to the white robes in the Amurian's hand. He tossed his shield to the side and undid his belt, then hastily cast the robes over himself. The robes left the tall black bear's ankles and below exposed, but how often did someone in a busy city look at another's footpaws? He fastened the belt around his waist, and the tucked the axe in his belt. Genevive had already thrown her robes on, and tossed her dagger aside, favoring one of the curved swords from the desert kingdom. Without word, the two of them slipped into the streets, wandering around, almost without aim, but always in the general direction of the temple, occasionally stopping to rest, and always avoiding the guards. Midnight came at an agonizingly slow speed. One by one, though, their allies started to come together by a fountain outside the temple. Genji was there when Bjornodd and Genevive had arrived. Next came Jerohan and Fridwulf, who had not donned disguises, but had instead, according to the story they told, managed to steal enough money to buy for themselves some leather armor, and avoided the guards by hanging out in the local taverns, and had simply claimed to be normal adventurers and travelers, though they doubted anyone at the gate would buy it. Hector came last. "That madman Sverting didn't even try to leave the forum," Hector said, spitting into the cobblestone street with clear disgust, "Stood there and killed guards and until they dragged him down with a net. Apparently they'll execute him in the usual fashion of the Valorians; nail him to some boards and hang him up by the roadside." "He was an undisciplined fool," Agreed Genji, nodding sagely as he sat with folded legs upon the edge of the fountain. "So whats the plan to escape now?" Jerohan asked, leaning on his sword. Bjornodd nodded, and drew a breath. He had never fully decided on how exactly to do this. "I will be honest... I do not know the city or its exits well enough. We could always just fight our way through the city's gates, but they could close the portcullis and trap us in here. Or we could sneak aboard a wagon of hay or some sort and rise on out." "Bah!" Fridwulf said, "I prefer fightin', but I want to get out of her as soon as possible." "There's just one problem with the wagon idea, though," Hector pointed out, "Usually hay comes into the city. Why would it come out, when there are no farms?" Bjornodd grunted, "We could find something else to sneak in." "The gates are probably keeping an eye out for us, so we may have to take another way out." "How?" They all sighed and shifted around, thinking. Eventually there was gruff chuckling, and Fridwulf pointed over towards the temple. "Now there's a bit o' divine inter-whatyacallit if I ever saw any!" They all looked to the temple. There were six low-leveled priests marching down from the temple, each clad in red togas and white robes. Not a word needed to be passed between the six companions. They all broke apart and walked casually through the streets, following and catching up to the monks. With the fall of night, the people cleared the streets. Soon there was no one but them and the priests. Sunrise. Six hooded priests walked through the streets, the largest among them pulling a handcart loaded with supplies from the church. They all marched through the gates without question. After all, who would dare impede a collection of priests from the church of the gods? They walked amongst the people going in and out of the city, more in than out. The sun beat on their heads, and birds chirped pleasantly in the distance. A few hours after passing the gate, Fridwulf threw off his robe and hood, laughing in triumph. "Aha! That ought to teach them Valorians! No one, and I mean no one, keeps Fridwulf anywhere he doesn't want to be for too long!" The others joined in the merry laughter, tossing off their robes and throwing on rucksacks onto their backs, and Jerohan and Hector kicked the cart into a ditch. "So, where are you all going to be going," Bjornodd asked, looking to his companions. "I'm going back to Mycen, where I belong. I have many stories to share with my family." "I can always head to Phoenicia, and teach the ways of fighting with one's hands to the people there." "Fridwulf and I will go about our regular business; plundering tombs, saving villiages, slaying beasts." "Getting gold and drinking entire towns dry!" Fridwulf cheered, clapping his friend on the shoulder again, and the bear laughed along with him. "I have nowhere to go," Genevive said, shrugging. She looked up at the clouds, and asked, "And what about you, Bjornodd? What are you going to do?" Bjornodd smiled, looked to each of his companions, and said, "I know exactly what I'm going to do..." The End