The Raven Song

The journey from Therinsford to Carvahall was long and tiring. I kicked my heels into Sticks, urging the tired beast into a gallop. I could see a dim outline of the village of Carvahall. I got down from the horse, tied it to a nearby tree and made my way into the town. The absence of sound or movement in the village gave the entire village an eerie feeling. As I approached Morns tavern the silence was eaten up by loud voices, laughter, songs. I was early.


***

I entered the tavern and found a seat in the far corner, Tara, the innkeepers wife, came up to me and took my order. I noticed a sign of surprise on her face. Strangers were uncommon in Carvahall at this time of the year.

I saw him, he sat at a stool in the middle of the room.

I patiently waited pretending to have fallen asleep, I knew he would not start this early into the night.

***

The cheers woke me up. Id fallen asleep after all. There was quite a crowd in the middle of the tavern. It had begun.

***

As soon as he opened his mouth, I knew I was right. I had found him. But I wouldnt interupt him. I would wait.
"You lot, are the lucky few." he said ."Not many have heard this one, The raven song. My death would be iminent anywhere else in the empire for even mentioning her name." He stood up, raised his voice and began just as the lady served me bread-It was many, many a year ago
In a place not so far away
There was born a maiden
Whose name, I shall not say.

She was to be loved, by all and one
Atleast thats what they did say
And so grew that maiden
In that place not so far away.

One day there did come a man
Whose name I shall not say
And he took this maiden
To a land far, far away.

This man was arrogant and angry
He was such throughout the day
But so deeply in love was the maiden
That against him nothing she would say

She did give birth to a boy
A boy whose name I shall not say
She was forbidden from seeing him
She would cry for him everyday

This maiden was forced to do things
She would kill, slaughter and slay
And even though she hated it
She would not disobey.


Then came a day
A day much like today....

***

He stopped the song abruptly. I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He stared at me. I turned to face him and noticed his eyes, they showed recognition. He remembered me! My place in history was set now. The Varden would be reward me greatly. I had found him. The weilder of Undbitr, The bane of Morzan, Our last and only hope- Brom.

Lull

The rush has died, sanity is mine once more

The smoke smothering the shards of my anger     

Some judgment tells me I’ve been here before

Right it may be; let live this loving languor

A lull, could it be?

Should I wait for the storm to take me?

Moaning seas twisting under a moaning moon

Help, they’re speaking, whispering to me

Showing me, like some forgotten, faded rune

The mind I’d lost (in a moody whirl, maybe)

But I’ve realized it’s quiet when you drown

Masts and Decks withered and wasted

Peace in watching what was mine go down

Not realizing it was me, the one to be fated

NO, the thought, like poison, courses through

Tear free from sloth’s iron hold; I wake

And break the surface, stare at the ice blue

I’ve broken the spiral; I will not crumble away.

A lull, could it be?

Now I wait for the storm to take me.

The Goddess Freya rarely despised being beautiful. Now was one such time.
Her dark brown hair hung in messy waves about her face. She wore no jewellery, only a simple blue dress. Still, she did not look ordinary. Her features were too striking. She was too extraordinary.
It was a miracle that she had managed to reach here unnoticed. She stood at the half-hidden cave entrance watching the setting sun paint the sky a fiery orange, willing it to set faster. Her task could only be completed in the dark of the night and she did not have much time. The war was about to begin; she could feel it in her bones. She must reach the battleground in time, for the war was dedicated to her, she who was the Goddess of War. By the end of the war her powers would increase tenfold, if she got there in time.
A soft rustle caused Freya to turn around. The baby had woken up and was sitting on his blanket, staring at her with piercing sea-green eyes. Just like hers. As she stared at the product of her latest bout of promiscuity she realised that one day he would play an important role in deciding the fates of the gods. Till then, no one must know he exists.
****
The sky was a black canopy above the forest, devoid of flickering starlight. But Freya could see as clearly as in day. She could see Ila waiting for her at the edge of Odin’s Cliff. Freya went up to Ila, handed her the child and said,”He has been given the name Skygge. Teach him to depend on no one but himself. Teach him to not yearn for a parental figure. Teach him the way of the gods- To fight like one, to think like one. That is all.”
With that, Freya turned her back to her son and his guardian and walked away.
****
Asgard- The realm of the Gods; their city in the heavens.
In the great hall of Gladsheim all the gods and goddesses were assembled- a sight unseen before. Aegir and Ran had left their abode beneath the waves and travelled to the sky city. The white-haired Skadi had arrived from her snowy mountains. Even Day had ceased his seemingly never-ending journey around the Earth.
Odin, the All-Father, the Creator of All, had summoned them to his hall.
In a voice that boomed and thundered he proclaimed, “Ragnarok, the Apocalypse, our End is upon us. Loki, the trickster, the traitor is spreading his evil into the hearts and minds of the humans. He will not rest till they forget us; till we are rendered weak and powerless without any belief to sustain us. “ Anger shimmered in his voice.
Frigg, companion of Odin, Mother of All continued, her voice soft and musical,” The humans created us, their belief sustained us and now, if Loki has his way, they will soon forget us. We must break free of them, if we wish to survive. And as we break our bonds with the humans we must take with us as much of their belief as we can so that our powers may persist. This is the only way we can survive. This is the only way to prevent our death.”
Urd, the controller of fate, spoke,” We will need a large magniture of belief and faith to sustain us once we break free of the humans. And it will take an extraordinary being to rouse such passionate emotions in the humans so that there may be war, death, destruction -dedicated to us- in plenty. “
The Goddess Freya stepped up. 20 years may have passed since that fateful night but Freya was untouched by age. She was still exquisite. “There is a boy, schooled in the ways of the gods, who will be able to accomplish this. He is loyal to the gods and has the charisma and the personality that is needed to bring about chaos on a large scale.”
“He goes by the name of Skygge. “
****
Chaos reigned in Midgard; the realm of humanity, the place between heaven and hell.
The tribes turned against one another, age-old alliances and treaties were broken. War ravaged Midgard, whole armies were decimated. Cities were toppled, kingdoms were destroyed.
The humans slaughtered each other.
The only colour to be seen was a bloody red. The only sounds to be heard were the metallic clatter of weapons and the cries of those dying.
Humanity had lost compassion. The wild animal inside them had been let loose.

And they dedicated their actions to the gods.

The Gods plan had worked. They were now strong enough to break free of the humans.
Asgard was no longer connected to Midgard
****
In Midgard, Loki stood at the edge of Odin’s Cliff watching the humans tear each other apart. He watched the perpetuator of it all, Skygge- tall, strong, devious and cunning and godlike- as he led an army into battle. He would live to fight another, but the soldiers wouldn’t.
The Bennu bird perched on a tree behind Loki spoke in a fiery voice,”That is a remarkable boy.”
Loki nodded, not taking his eyes off the boy. “Yes, truly exceptional, the way one is when they have exceptional parents.”
Loki lowered his voice to a whisper and the air grew still. It was as though the wind wanted to hear his words more clearly. Even the trees seemed to have moved in closer.

“Skygge- Son of Freya and Odin.”

Sanity?

Sanity?
An illusion. A fable spread by those who seek to impose order on the chaos that they shy away from. For will not a drowning man do the same? Reach out in his desperation, clinging to anything that offers the slightest hope of survival? Undoubtedly so.
So come, sit still and lean back, for now you shall learn the truth, shaded so gray by the lies of those who fear it. This is the tale of a man. Not a special man. All in all, he was but another face in the crowd. Which just goes to show how close to the brink we all stand.

Dr. John Doe, Ph.D., Psychology.

John sat at his desk, turning the bronze paperweight over and over. Staring at it. Staring at nothing.
" I'm getting nowhere."
His efforts had proven fruitless. His research had ground to a screeching halt. And there was only one place left to turn.
" Goddamn it!" He threw the paperweight across the room with all his strength and it crashed into the mirror hanging on his door. Needless to say, the mirror shattered, and the Doctor was left looking at a million fractured images of himself.
"Goddamn it." He said once more, this time his voice resigned.
He picked up the coat hanging on his chair and shrugged into it. He left his study and made his way through the halls of the Weyland Insanitarium. It was strangely quiet this night.
As he walked, he found himself recollecting the last few months. He had spent them researching one of the greatest questions that psychology posed.
What was insanity?
An affliction of the mind? Loss of ability to comprehend reality? So many answers considered and discarded, so much bloody time wasted.Only one thing left to do then. Confront the real thing.
As he reached the holding cells, he asked a passing orderly, Jake something, "Is Mirk in tonight?".
The orderly's eyebrows beetled in consternation. He answered, "Yes, but why?..."
His only response was to turn and keep on walking, leaving the confused orderly in his wake.
He faced the door and hunched his shoulders as he placed his hand on the doorknob.
"This should be fun."
He opened the door, and stepped in.
-----------------------------
Haddon Mirk. That was the patient's name.
The most intriguing case the Doctor had ever come across. Mirk had been institutionalized after he had killed his wife, his son and his daughter, two years ago.
By eating them alive.
But unlike what most people expected on reading his chart, Mirk was not violent, raving, delusional, sadistic, murderous, malevolent, monstrous or anything else they might have thought. Indeed by all appearances, Mirk was sane beyond belief. Therein lay the enigma.
But the reason Mirk was being treated was perhaps the ghastliest that the Doctor had ever seen. And he he had seen 'some crazy shit' as his younger orderlies put it.

He closed the door behind him gently, and as he turned around, he found Mirk sitting on his bed, twiddling his thumbs with a smile on his face, as if entertaining a guest. As always, his hair was perfectly combed, his face neatly shaved, his demeanor
perfectly normal. No one would suspect the monster that lurked within.
"Hello Mirk."
"Hello Doctor.", Mirk replied, his voice level.
"How do you feel?"
"As sane as always."
The Doctor paused at the ambiguity of that answer. Then he shook his head and took a seat on the bed next to him.
"I want to ask you a question. Is that all right?"
"Perfectly."
He paused for a second, to throw away any last doubts, and asked, "What is insanity?"
Mirk cocked his head and blinked.
"And here was me thinking you were the doctor."
"Answer the question."
Mirk sat in silence for a while, seemingly content to let the doctor stew in his impatience.
"Well?"
"An easy question, an easier answer."
"Well, I shan't hold my breath for anticipation."
"Sarcasm doesn't befit you Doctor. Indeed some may argue the benefit of angering the seemingly insane."
John held his breath as he realized that perhaps he had taken it a step too far. Mirk was, after all, insane. No telling what he'd do when provoked.
"I apologize. But I would appreciate an answer."
Mirk looked mollified.
"Why all of a sudden?"
"Does it matter?"
"True."
The silence held sway again for a while.
"Are you sure you wish an answer?"
"Positive."
"Very well."
And with that, Mirk exploded into motion, the seemingly frail limbs a blur as he reached for the doctor's neck.
"What are you doing?", the words came out as a croak.
"Giving you an answer, Doctor". The voice that emerged from Mirk was almost bestial in the madness it hid.
Mirk edged his face towards the Doctor's head. He opened his mouth, and as the Doctor tried to scream, he sunk his teeth into the Doctor's eyes and bit down.
The Doctor screamed. He screamed from the terror, from the pain, and from the realization of his foolishness. And as Mirk let go of him, the pain rendered him almost catatonic.
Mirk knelt next to him. He whispered in his ear.
"You wanted to know."
And then he began. Whispering into the doctor's ear, every excruciatingly painful detail, of how he had killed his family, of how he descended into his madness, and how he had embraced mankind's oldest legacy. Insanity.
The Doctor felt his mind being pushed over the edge, with the last thought that truly belonged to him, he thought,
"I asked for this."
And with that he began to laugh, the blood running from his eye began to choke him, and he felt weak and near dead, but he laughed. And still Mirk whispered into his ear, no longer an enigma, but a brother to embrace.
----------------------------------------------------
The Doctor walked into his office, his coat blood spattered, his face ravaged and bloody. And in his hands he held a nametag "Jake Dylan, Orderly". He walked towards his desk and picked up a recorder. He switched it on and spoke into it.
"Sanity? An illusion..."
And all around him were the screams of the dying and the insane.
----------------------------------------------------

Drought of Ideas

Is blood flowing through your veins
All that matters now ?
You're body being whole and healthy
All that you care about ?
You're not ill, not sick.

Yet deep inside, Inside your head
That nothingness fills instead.

Where are new ideas ?
Where are those thoughts ?
You people just sit there
All day, until you rot.
Get up, use that brain.

Take the time, and think my friend.
Light up that goddamn bulb inside your head.