1 comments/ 6484 views/ 8 favorites Tristan and Isolde Ch. 00 By: LateNightStories Prologue Olaf Skullcrusher. Olaf the Mad Dog. These were now the names he was known by. Ten years ago, it had been Olaf the Wise. Twenty years ago, it had been Olaf the Handsome. He looked at his blade. This was now his only tool and war was his only trade. "Tonight we will retire," he said to his shieldbrother, "but not to a life of comforts and rocking chairs. We'll retire back to the dirt that spawned us." The last that remained of his people was fleeing further north. Olaf had stayed behind with a token force of three hundred men to guard their escape. Three hundred old men. The last great warriors of his people. The countless battles they had fought together had hardened them, but also scarred and wounded them. None of them was as strong as they had once been. Nevertheless, they were still strong. Strong enough to kill. Strong enough to instil fear. They were to hold the mountain pass. If the invading Atlanteans lost enough men, they would be forced to take a couple of days to recuperate and reorganise before they would be able to continue their pursuit. Olaf wondered if their sacrifice would mean anything. Maybe his people would live on, but they would be without strength. All they would have would be stories of their past greatness. The sun rose and the Atlanteans began their march up the mountain. The narrowness of the passage made any clever use of tactics or strategy impossible. It also meant that the Atlanteans could not surround and overwhelm the Vikings. They were forced to fight them toe-to-toe. The battle lasted for hours. Bone was crushed and flesh was thorn. The survivors continued the fight standing on the corpses of the slain. Eventually, Olaf saw the last of his brothers suffer a fatal wound. He was alone. The remaining Atlantic soldiers surrounded him. He knew he would soon pass out from blood loss and exhaustion. An Atlantic knight-commander came trotting through the deep snow. He commanded his men to capture the old Viking alive. The General wanted him for questioning. Just as Olaf was about to close his eyes, a woman appeared, riding a milk white steed. She stopped beside Olaf and dismounted. Both the foreign commander and the dying warrior looked at her in wonderment. Drawing her sword, she slowly stepped between the two. The knight was about to laugh, but his throat clogged when his eyes met her icy stare. There was no fear to be read from her solemn expression. "This is the last great warrior of the Vikings," she said. Her voice echoed through the valley. "He will not be put in chains." The knight raised his claymore and charged at the woman. Their blades met and locked. With surprising strength, the woman lunged forward, pushing the knight back. Before the knight regained his balance, the woman had thrust her blade into his chest, piercing his thick breastplate. He collapsed and fell face down in the snow. "Tend to your wounded," the woman said to the knight's stunned men. "You will not pass through this valley tonight." The woman sheathed her sword and turned her attention to the old Viking. Olaf knew there was no way he could make it off the mountains with his wounds. "Fear not, Olaf," the woman said in a voice softer and more tender than before. "I have come to take you to Valhalla." Olaf grinned a bloody grin. "You are a Valkyrie, then?" The woman nodded. "Tell me then," he said. "Have the gods abandoned our people?" The woman shook her head. "No. You are the last of the great heroes. You will have your place amongst them." Olaf did not think her answer sounded sincere. "But what about my people?" he asked. "Those that are moving north? The woman did not answer, but her pained expression told Olaf the truth. "Then I am staying here," he declared. "If the gods have abandoned my people, tell them that I abandon them!" "You'll die," she said. "Watching my people be killed and subjugated by southerners would be worse." Silence fell between them. The Valkyrie watched over the old man as he slowly slipped out of consciousness. **** Olaf opened his eyes. The sun was shining. He was laying on top of an improvised stretcher being pulled by a horse across the snow. The woman was walking beside the horse, guiding it to an unknown destination. She had draped Olaf in her cape to keep him warm. Olaf lost consciousness again. When he once more awoke, they had arrived at the mouth of a cave. He noticed that there was no snow around the entrance. The air was hot and moist. Something was amiss. "This is not Valhalla, is it?" he asked the Valkyrie. "No, but it is a special place - a sacred place," she answered. She bent down and placed his arm over her shoulder, before helping him to his feet. They walked slowly into the mountain, one painful step at a time. Inside the mountain was a large lake. Steam rose from the water. The Valkyrie sat Olaf down by the bank and began to remove her armour. She pulled her plate collar over her head, unstrapped her bracers and greaves and removed her chainmail tunic. Soon, she was untying the knots of her undershirt. A pair of lush, creamy breasts lay underneath. They were even rounder and firmer than Olaf's wife's' had been on their wedding night. The Valkyrie unbuckled her pants, let them fall to her ankles and stepped out of them. Olaf's eyes travelled from her toes and past her beautifully formed calves, before they stopped at the naked folds at the junction of her milky white thighs. There they lingered. The Valkyrie's pale cheeks blushed. "Why do you stare?" she asked. "There is not a single hair on your body," Olaf stammered. The Valkyrie looked confused. Olaf tried to explain: "Do the Valkyr not grow hair underneath their arms, on their legs, forearms or..?" She giggled and put her hand over her mouth. It seemed as if the concept was foreign to her. Perhaps it wasn't so strange. Humans have no common ancestry with celestial beings. "Do you have a name?" he asked her. She sat down and began helping him undress. "Årolilja," she said. Olaf laughed. "Årolilja? I used to sing the songs of your heroic deeds when I was younger. The cold mountain air ruined my singing voice years ago." She smiled at him. Her hand stroked his hairy chest. "Did you expect me to have hair like this?" she asked. "Not quite like this," Olaf laughed. "Not even my wife is this hairy." She cleaned his body using the hot waters from the lake and bandaged his wounds as best she could with that which was available. "I've never seen a man survive such injuries," Olaf remarked laconically. She kissed him on the forehead. "You won't die," she said. "It may take months before you are ready for the journey off this mountain, but you won't die. Your people will have their hero back, eventually." She bit her lip. "I have decided to give you a gift." "A gift?" "Salvation," she said. "For your people. I will bear you two children – twins. One will be like you - strong and brave. A king for your people to rally behind. The other will be like me. She will mortal, but in all other respects, she will be like a Valkyrie. The bloodline of your people will be rejuvenated and they will rise up and take back their place in the world." The Valkyrie's eyes fell upon Olaf's erect member. Her pale skin flushed. There was hunger in her gaze, but also reluctance. "I don't know the steps to the dance that mortal wives and husbands dance," she said. "You need to want it," Olaf said. "You need to let the lust grow in you. Then you must put your hands between your legs and massage the area around your sheath, until it is wet and yielding." He watched the woman do as he had told her. Not all celestial beings are celibate, but the Valkyr are mere servants of the gods, not gods themselves. It did not, however, take her long to awake the latent urges that were forbidden to her species by divine decree. The warmth from the hot air and the heat that arose inside her made her fair skin turn rosy pink. Pearls of sweat formed on her forehead. She was squatting with her thighs parted, massaging her swollen lips. She looked at Olaf with lustful eyes. "I can't move," Olaf said. "You must come to me." She crawled over to him and kissed his forehead. The fingers that caressed his neck were wet and smelled liked the mountain flowers. Slowly and carefully, she lowered her body down and allowed his member to slide inside her. Outside, the sun fell behind the mountains and was replaced by her silver sister. The lovers in the cave were both capable of inhuman feats of endurance, and they wanted to savour the moment. Eventually, the Valkyrie's legs began to spasm and could no longer support her weight. Her breath intensified until it turned to silent gasps. Olaf felt her walls closing in around his cock. He resisted and thrust himself further inside her, arched his back and allowed his cock to finally release his seed. The euphoria he felt soon turned into a feverish haze. He lost consciousness and blacked out. When he awoke, he saw that all his bandages had been removed. His wounds looked less dire and they had all stopped bleeding. The aching in his muscles still kept him from getting up, however. The Valkyrie was gone. It turned out she was hunting for food. During the course of the following months, she'd bring back hares, birds and deer to the cave. At first, she ate nothing herself, but that changed as her stomach began to show signs of pregnancy. "I'm becoming mortal," she explained to Olaf. Årolilja refused to lay with Olaf again. When he asked, her eyes grew sad and she whispered: "Never before has a Valkyrie lain with a man and never again will it happen. Before the summer is in full bloom, you will receive the gift that I wanted to give you." After three months had passed, Olaf's injuries had healed, but his health had not improved. He was feverish and weak. Nightmares about the extinction of his people plagued his sleep. One morning, Årolilja came to him. She cradled his head in her hands and allowed him to drink the milk from her swollen breasts. He felt the veil that had fallen on his mind lifting and the strength that had left his limbs returning. Eventually, Olaf was ready for the journey down the mountain. It was now late spring. Finding his people proved difficult. The Atlantic invaders ruled most of the settlements in the area. The pair travelled ever north, until they came upon a secluded fjord hidden between great mountains. This was where his people had fled. Olaf was greeted by his wife. When he saw the heavy lines on her face, he was reminded of how old he was. He would not be the one to return his people to glory. His sons had done a great job of helping their people survive, but they were not made to be kings. The future would be secured by Årolilja's twins. The first child she bore forth was named Lífthrasir. He both resembled and surpassed his father in every way. He was strong as an ox and brave as a lion. Never have the Northlands known a greater king. He fathered countless children during his lifetime, both legitimate and illegitimate. In this way, the Valkyr blood spread amongst the people. The second child was named Líf. She grew into the spitting image of her mother. Her beauty was so great that old men would often weep when they saw her and her ferociousness in battle even surpassed her brother's. After spending many years fighting the Atlanteans, she met a man who she deemed worthy to be her husband. They had seven daughters that mothered the seven dynasties that to this day rule the seven jarldoms of the Northlands. Årolilja did not stay to see her children grow up. She left the Vikings. No one knows where she wanders now or what price she had to pay for her transgression. Together, her twins rallied the Vikings and drove the Atlanteans south. The Atlantic Empire had begun to crumble from within and had already withdrawn most of their soldiers from the Northlands. A new area of Viking expansionism, exploration and trade began. It lasted several centuries. In the beginning, the Valkyrie blood was potent. Especially in the Daughters of Valkyrie. This was the name given to the daughters of Líf and their daughters, their daughters' daughters and so on. Sons born from a Daughter of Valkyrie resembled their fathers, not their mothers, and their celestial ancestry was not nearly as prominent. The Daughters formed an order of shieldmaidens. They were long considered among the most elite and fearsome warriors in the world. Few of them served for long, however. Their celestial blood was considered valuable to the Viking people and they were all expected to bear forth many children. Eventually, however, the bloodline became diluted. The Daughters of today are not as strong as the Daughters of yore. Fewer and fewer are trained as shieldmaidens. The Vikings have long ago withdrawn from the rest of the world and isolated themselves in the Northlands. One day they will face another invasion. Time will tell if they are still strong enough to withstand it.