Orlog - The Norns' Chant
In the midst of darkness, light;
In the midst of death, life;
In the midst of chaos, order.
In the midst of order, chaos;
In the midst of life, death;
In the midst of light, darkness.
Thus has it ever been,
Thus is it now, and
Thus shall it always be.
The lids of your eyes droop and you finally submit to the incessant whisper of sleep. Despite the cold – as cold a winter as any have ever known – you cannot fight the call any longer, and yield. In your dream, you are atop a lonely hill, seated on mossy rocks around a wide bed of embers, smoldering in recognition of what once was a mighty blaze. The last of the flames hover over the coals, blue and almost invisible. The coals’ emanations cannot mitigate the wind that whips over the fire circle and chills your bones.
A man you think you know as Vegtam the Wanderer sits at the remains of the fire, remarkable for his age and his closed left eye. He wears a cloak of blue and a golden helm in the shape of an eagle, and on his shoulder sits a raven which, from time to time, speaks into his ear. He leans on the staff of a wanderer. There are other faces in the circle – younger, leaner, yet seasoned with the wisdom of battle. They are silent.
“Look you,” says the man with the raven in a raspy voice. “This is of mighty import.”
You strain to hear him over the whistling, face-freezing gusts.
“The Mischievous One and the Covenant-Breakers have thrown in their lot together and taken Hnossa – daughter of Njord, who-calms-the-oceans – hostage. They have imprisoned her far from even my view. Find her, and earn you our respect and gratitude. The most heroic among you may claim her as your bride, and live in Asgard as befits a god.
“So take you this mead and this apple, drink and eat, and seek out the counsel of the Norns – Urd, Verdandi, and Skuld. When you have drunk and eaten, you will see the way into Yggdrasil, the tree of life, and to the well Urdabrunn. Seek there the Norns, but make no delays – for when you have drunk the mead and eaten the apple, days will seem as hours, and hours will seem like days, and the Mischievous One seeks to finish binding Hnossa at the end of the sixth day hence. He and the Covenant-Breakers will labor to slow you down with resistance, misdirection and deceit; be not swayed. Ride swiftly upon the mounts tied below.”
The wind blows out the last of the flames. The circle grows darker.
“Drink! And eat!” the old man commands.
You wake and find yourself on a windswept hilltop, sitting in the pre-dawn chill before a cold, ash-filled fire pit. Some half a dozen others are with you, each holding as you are – a goblet of mead and a golden apple.
“Drink! And eat!” the old man’s voice echoes in your ears.
References: SWORD and note specifically: