My dreams lead me to many places, and at many times. Old soul, perhaps. Blood Empathy? I'm sure of it, in some way. I cant explain the vivid detail, nor the exhaustion upon waking up. Bruised at times, sore, and tired. Every step I take and day that passes in these dreams wears heavy even after awakening. Knowing these inhabitants, their lives and memory of past experiences with them are more than contrived storytelling. I have been there. I have the scars.
The gate had closed. I wasn't late because of ill timing, I had already been present but took leave during the intermission to reflect, or perhaps sulk even.
It was a gathering of nobles from many camps to discuss things of importance and things, not so important. My place among them seemed to be more of a father, mother or older brother depending on what words I had for each. Every time an argument broke out they looked to me as if I could somehow make them see something any man or woman should already be able to. How do some of these men even rise to power in their lands? I must miss what Odin sees with one eye while both of mine only see weakness, suspicion and contempt among most of them.
Down the timber lined corridor I walked, heading back to the meeting circle only to see the gates closing and the horns signalling the continuation of the proceedings. Two guards stepped forward from the sides and one yelled to me "You cannot pass, go back or..." I already began my sprint, dropping to all fours to gain speed and stretch my legs- already sore from too much sitting behind the walls listening to them argue among themselves over smaller things.
I bounded sideways, first into the wall to get footing then up over the gate directly overhead another sentry who could only say "Hvad i helvede? Uruz..." as I landed past him I simply stated "I am Uruz, mind your sword and put it away." and continued to move behind Olaf, placing my hand on his shoulder and whispering to him "Miss me?"
"We thought you took leave. You linger when its obvious these things do not entertain you."
"If some of your men, these other Kings, Jarls and their women took the time to wipe themselves after taking a piss there would be more walking though the gate in the same timely fashion I have."
"I never grow tired of your advice, even if it's laden with salt."
Events before this exchange had nothing to do with relieving myself- in that fashion anyways.
Earlier, a visiting woman of some status had sought out Gunnhild and I noticed her looking my way. She seemed to be questioning her, and brief stares my way from them both (knowing Gunnhild) I knew at some point some introduction would take place. Gunnhild smiles at me and I respond as I always do, with raised brows and shaking my head. I do not enjoy these games.
I began losing interest in the conversations and started thinking of my wife and son across the sea. At night among the trees and at the shoreline there are always those two stars to remind me. When visiting Heimdall, he often tells me they see the same stars I do, and feel my tears only the gods and the sea are permitted to witness in my seclusion. If it weren't for my time at Himinbjörg and him trading me glimpses of far away for another horn full, I dont know what I'd do. Feeling a familiar touch on my back, then up over shoulder to neck; I closed my eyes and dropped my head forward. Prone. She never knew how much a small thing like her touch gave me strength the gods fear and yet are jealous of.
My breath is taken away for a moment and I open them to realize I'm still here, at this place.
"My Lord, you seem so distanced. Gunnhild tells me you are always sad. Grieving a loss?" I grab her hand and place it back on her breast, stepping back.
"Gunnhild sees much, and yet so little."
I snapped back, "If it were that easy, I could send all of these other Kings home with answers to every one of their problems."
"Time is what I lament. The smile of a small boy fades into unshorn beard, sound of heartbeat in the cool night under blanket becomes hidden by the sea crashing waves of distance unable to travel."
"Ragnarok approaches and I cannot see my way clear of the mist on this field."
"I must take leave. I'm sorry if I startled you."
Saying such didn't seem to relieve her of concern, and before any more was said I moved away towards the gate, leapt on the palisade wall and dropped to the ground. By some chance I found myself in the circle of stone, the tallow candles still burning from earlier blessings. I searched the flames for some message, as if Surtr would lend me word or even Loki a bauble to further torment me with distraction. Instead, a few minutes later the horns sounded that the talks were to resume.
I head back to the gate.