New Story: Runic Protection
Posted: Tue Dec 14, 2004 8:32 pm
As the Sage sat in his chair and read something non-related to his work, the latest tome from Neil Stephenson filled his lap. Eden lay stretched out on her side next to him, sound asleep and twitching away. She was no doubt dreaming of running around after a rabbit, instead of something far nastier. At least, that is what the Sage rather hoped. He often wondered to himself if she was as affected by the things she had to deal with as he was. Did dogs have nightmares? Did they dream about whatever they faced in their lives?
Their calm, almost normal looking scene was disturbed by Claire plodding off to the kitchen for a tea, herrumphing and cursing in Welsh. She was advising the Norwegian government on their most recent pagan/Satanic problem. As had happened in the 90s, a bunch of Satanists from the “death metal scene” were alleged to be blowing up churches, this time not bothering to wait until the Christians inside had left before doing so. The Norwegian authorities were trying to determine if the “tags” left by the culprits were indeed genuine and were not, as had happened before in such attacks, Islamist groupings trying to frame some other groupings. As the Satanic death metal extremists were also nationalist neo-Nazis they were the perfect foil. At dinner the Sage, Derek, and Claire spoke at length about the subject and came to a conclusion. The Sage gathered that her reply to their queries did not go down terribly well in the quarters that wanted to put the blame on death-metallers and be done with it. Especially since they were keen to ban extreme metal over it.
Claire returned to the lounge with her tea of water and sat down to brood for a wee while. The Sage continued reading, and Eden faked going back to sleep. Both man and dog knew that the silence would be broken in a few seconds by their favourite Welsh witch’s ranting.
It took her until the last drop of tea before she began. “I don’t know who is bleeding worse, those idiot Satanists or the Muslim lot! It's obvious some of the extremists of the latter blew up those churches, but some of extremists of the other lot aren't helping their cause either…”
“Oh, what now?”
“Well some grouping of them said that: “no one in Satanic underground is responsible for the bombings; however we welcome the destruction of any of the imperialist White Christ’s shrines. Death to Christians!”
“Oh lovely..”
“I think I have saved them from getting extreme metal banned in Norway. Of course now I am the Islamophobe witch…instead of figuring why a bunch of young loons killed 50 people and injured many more, they are whingeing about Islamophobia. They support the banning of metal as well…want Norway to bring in “hate-speech legislation.”
To lighten the mood or get her to get her vent out, the Sage dropped in a bomb of his own. “Claire, you know those Satanic nutters are not all bad…they do have their uses…”
“What?”
“I was not going to tell you this while the suspicions for the deaths was still on them, but that lot did a great service to those of us fighting ancient evil.”
Claire didn't respond as she seemed to be in shock…stunned into silence.
“I guess you don’t about what was found under one of those destroyed churches do you?” He paused, “well, to be fair, it was not widely known, as we managed to keep it very quiet in the media. “
“Oh…well…”
“As with many Christian churches in Northern Europe and elsewhere, many of them were built on pagan, in this case Norse, sacred sites. I am sure you know this. In some cases, they didn't bother flattening and starting again, they merely reconstructed things in a more “Christian” style . It is amazing what you can find in a church's walled-up basements.”
“Yes, I am guessing this one wasn't just a bunch of dusty bones.”
“No, not really…it was in fact a much older shrine to a Norse hero complete with his own saga all over the walls. No body, of course, as he was given a traditional Norse burial.”
“Naturally…” responded Claire.
“His story, that is to say the Birger DemonSlakter Saga, is particularly amusing. He did more for the protection of his people than any other Viking in history. He made sure that not even Cthulhu himself would ever disturb his people.”
“How?”
“He, by luck or divine guidance stumbled onto the Elder sign. Or rather the Elder Rune. In so doing he assured that they were never bothered by Cthulhu and his minions; it is because of him that I can visit the Shetlands and the Orkneys without fear of attack. He assured that Viking ships would travel the world, unmolested in ways that other people could only dream of. “
“How is it different? How and where did he stumble on it?”
“No one really knows, all we know is what is written down in the saga upon the walls of his shrine. It seems the Norse tribes on the coast and their seaman were being bothered by some great evil sea creature because they refused to pay tribute to him. The saga says it was one giant creature and his monstrous hordes. Ships were disappearing and villages were being ravaged by big-eyed nasties with long claws who came out of the sea. Their women were taken, never to be seen again.”
“Sounds vaguely familiar.”
“Anyway, it seems this Birger, the son of the head of the tribe and the sybil, was born with tremendous courage and ferocity in his soul. He was so savage looking that he was almost killed at an early age in the suspicion that his witch-mother had been seduced by Loki or his father by Angerbode the witch-queen. The village was split by his father’s decision to let him live, with many leaving the village to head in-land, sure that this boy’s existence would lead them all to their doom. Wild tales were spread about the boy, and how Anders, the head of the tribe, had sold himself and his clan to Loki and Angerbode. There were several raids on the village by rival tribes, none successful in killing the boy. The raids were said to have stopped when the 9 year old boy slaughtered many of them with no training in the arts of the sword. “
The Sage adjusted himself in the chair and continued.
“In a few years he was going fishing by himself and returning with a catch…even on days when other men in the village refused to even hunt. There was much speculation, most of it bad, about how he managed this.”
The Sage was now in full-flow, sitting up in his chair, his white hair flowing down his back. Claire was riveted with interested, Eden was not so moved, preferring, naturally, to return to her slumber but this time rolled upright and resting her snout on her paws.
“Eventually, in Birger’s late teens, his father died, of old age, no less. That was rather unusual among Vikings. Another cause for suspicion amongst his rivals. Immediately upon his funeral there was another attack on the village, this time in impressive numbers; the result was the same. The survivors, such that there were, reported that the entire tribe wore a very strange sign on their bodies. A tattoo of a shape unknown in the Norse world.”
“Was it an Elder sign?”
“No, not as such, but it looked similar. The edges of the star were extended and went off at an angle. To modern eyes it would have looked like a back-wards swastika or the Druidic & Persian sign of the sun. It had a small object in the middle in the shape of an eye.”
“The tribe did very well and prospered; due to the legends they were very much left alone. One could almost say shunned, barring traders who came for their fish and ivory. It was one such trader who approached Birger with a message, which in actual fact was a plea for help. The plea promised him all they could muster to save them from the scourge of a sea beast. To the shock of his people, Birger volunteered to go defeat the beast himself. His wife and children begged him not to go. It was only his mother, Æsa, who supported his goal. She was confident her son would return. The rest of the tribe thought their seer had taken leave of her senses.”
The Sage paused, “Æsa was right, of course; he easily defeated the monster and drove him away from their shores. He taught the village how to make sure they were never bothered again, helping them inscribe his “rune” on their ships and on their weapons. Soon word spread along the coast of the affect of this sign. No other people but those of Birger dared to wear the sign however, merely preferring to have it on things not on their own flesh. Very quickly the Vikings began to venture farther a-field to explore, raid, and trade. Soon Vikings were known across much of the world.”
“Ah, so is that the real reason they were able to reach the American mainland so long before Columbus?” asked Claire glibly.
“Well some would say that, but I could not possibly guess. I gather it probably did not hurt in the slightest. Wait...let me finish the tale.’
“Ok, sorry…”
“Birger might have been protected against the Cthulhu, but was not immune to the Grim Reaper. He finally succumbed after a long and fruitful life. His funeral was legendary; it was attended by every Norse worth his salt, rivalries and feuds were put aside for the event. It went on for two days, and the ship built for his trip to Valhalla was magnificent to behold. The saga tells that as his ship burned and drifted out to sea, the clouds in the distance turned black and menacing. It is said, by some even to this day, that oil was found off the coast of this town, ensuring the region of his birth wealth and prosperity. “
“Wow. Have you been to this shrine?”
“Yes, once, and for my visit a local craftsman carved me the Elder rune out of wood. I keep it in my office for safekeeping. I was told that it only works for those with Norse blood running through their veins, no matter how little. “
“Does that include you?”
“I hope I never need to find out…I am sure that any Viking blood in me is rather diluted by now. “
“Well yes...” she signed and rose to her feet, “guess I better go back and wrap up this Norwegian business. I think they will need my advice for a few days to come.”
“Well, at least there is one type of evil they don’t have to deal with…”
“Very true…lucky buggers…”
Their calm, almost normal looking scene was disturbed by Claire plodding off to the kitchen for a tea, herrumphing and cursing in Welsh. She was advising the Norwegian government on their most recent pagan/Satanic problem. As had happened in the 90s, a bunch of Satanists from the “death metal scene” were alleged to be blowing up churches, this time not bothering to wait until the Christians inside had left before doing so. The Norwegian authorities were trying to determine if the “tags” left by the culprits were indeed genuine and were not, as had happened before in such attacks, Islamist groupings trying to frame some other groupings. As the Satanic death metal extremists were also nationalist neo-Nazis they were the perfect foil. At dinner the Sage, Derek, and Claire spoke at length about the subject and came to a conclusion. The Sage gathered that her reply to their queries did not go down terribly well in the quarters that wanted to put the blame on death-metallers and be done with it. Especially since they were keen to ban extreme metal over it.
Claire returned to the lounge with her tea of water and sat down to brood for a wee while. The Sage continued reading, and Eden faked going back to sleep. Both man and dog knew that the silence would be broken in a few seconds by their favourite Welsh witch’s ranting.
It took her until the last drop of tea before she began. “I don’t know who is bleeding worse, those idiot Satanists or the Muslim lot! It's obvious some of the extremists of the latter blew up those churches, but some of extremists of the other lot aren't helping their cause either…”
“Oh, what now?”
“Well some grouping of them said that: “no one in Satanic underground is responsible for the bombings; however we welcome the destruction of any of the imperialist White Christ’s shrines. Death to Christians!”
“Oh lovely..”
“I think I have saved them from getting extreme metal banned in Norway. Of course now I am the Islamophobe witch…instead of figuring why a bunch of young loons killed 50 people and injured many more, they are whingeing about Islamophobia. They support the banning of metal as well…want Norway to bring in “hate-speech legislation.”
To lighten the mood or get her to get her vent out, the Sage dropped in a bomb of his own. “Claire, you know those Satanic nutters are not all bad…they do have their uses…”
“What?”
“I was not going to tell you this while the suspicions for the deaths was still on them, but that lot did a great service to those of us fighting ancient evil.”
Claire didn't respond as she seemed to be in shock…stunned into silence.
“I guess you don’t about what was found under one of those destroyed churches do you?” He paused, “well, to be fair, it was not widely known, as we managed to keep it very quiet in the media. “
“Oh…well…”
“As with many Christian churches in Northern Europe and elsewhere, many of them were built on pagan, in this case Norse, sacred sites. I am sure you know this. In some cases, they didn't bother flattening and starting again, they merely reconstructed things in a more “Christian” style . It is amazing what you can find in a church's walled-up basements.”
“Yes, I am guessing this one wasn't just a bunch of dusty bones.”
“No, not really…it was in fact a much older shrine to a Norse hero complete with his own saga all over the walls. No body, of course, as he was given a traditional Norse burial.”
“Naturally…” responded Claire.
“His story, that is to say the Birger DemonSlakter Saga, is particularly amusing. He did more for the protection of his people than any other Viking in history. He made sure that not even Cthulhu himself would ever disturb his people.”
“How?”
“He, by luck or divine guidance stumbled onto the Elder sign. Or rather the Elder Rune. In so doing he assured that they were never bothered by Cthulhu and his minions; it is because of him that I can visit the Shetlands and the Orkneys without fear of attack. He assured that Viking ships would travel the world, unmolested in ways that other people could only dream of. “
“How is it different? How and where did he stumble on it?”
“No one really knows, all we know is what is written down in the saga upon the walls of his shrine. It seems the Norse tribes on the coast and their seaman were being bothered by some great evil sea creature because they refused to pay tribute to him. The saga says it was one giant creature and his monstrous hordes. Ships were disappearing and villages were being ravaged by big-eyed nasties with long claws who came out of the sea. Their women were taken, never to be seen again.”
“Sounds vaguely familiar.”
“Anyway, it seems this Birger, the son of the head of the tribe and the sybil, was born with tremendous courage and ferocity in his soul. He was so savage looking that he was almost killed at an early age in the suspicion that his witch-mother had been seduced by Loki or his father by Angerbode the witch-queen. The village was split by his father’s decision to let him live, with many leaving the village to head in-land, sure that this boy’s existence would lead them all to their doom. Wild tales were spread about the boy, and how Anders, the head of the tribe, had sold himself and his clan to Loki and Angerbode. There were several raids on the village by rival tribes, none successful in killing the boy. The raids were said to have stopped when the 9 year old boy slaughtered many of them with no training in the arts of the sword. “
The Sage adjusted himself in the chair and continued.
“In a few years he was going fishing by himself and returning with a catch…even on days when other men in the village refused to even hunt. There was much speculation, most of it bad, about how he managed this.”
The Sage was now in full-flow, sitting up in his chair, his white hair flowing down his back. Claire was riveted with interested, Eden was not so moved, preferring, naturally, to return to her slumber but this time rolled upright and resting her snout on her paws.
“Eventually, in Birger’s late teens, his father died, of old age, no less. That was rather unusual among Vikings. Another cause for suspicion amongst his rivals. Immediately upon his funeral there was another attack on the village, this time in impressive numbers; the result was the same. The survivors, such that there were, reported that the entire tribe wore a very strange sign on their bodies. A tattoo of a shape unknown in the Norse world.”
“Was it an Elder sign?”
“No, not as such, but it looked similar. The edges of the star were extended and went off at an angle. To modern eyes it would have looked like a back-wards swastika or the Druidic & Persian sign of the sun. It had a small object in the middle in the shape of an eye.”
“The tribe did very well and prospered; due to the legends they were very much left alone. One could almost say shunned, barring traders who came for their fish and ivory. It was one such trader who approached Birger with a message, which in actual fact was a plea for help. The plea promised him all they could muster to save them from the scourge of a sea beast. To the shock of his people, Birger volunteered to go defeat the beast himself. His wife and children begged him not to go. It was only his mother, Æsa, who supported his goal. She was confident her son would return. The rest of the tribe thought their seer had taken leave of her senses.”
The Sage paused, “Æsa was right, of course; he easily defeated the monster and drove him away from their shores. He taught the village how to make sure they were never bothered again, helping them inscribe his “rune” on their ships and on their weapons. Soon word spread along the coast of the affect of this sign. No other people but those of Birger dared to wear the sign however, merely preferring to have it on things not on their own flesh. Very quickly the Vikings began to venture farther a-field to explore, raid, and trade. Soon Vikings were known across much of the world.”
“Ah, so is that the real reason they were able to reach the American mainland so long before Columbus?” asked Claire glibly.
“Well some would say that, but I could not possibly guess. I gather it probably did not hurt in the slightest. Wait...let me finish the tale.’
“Ok, sorry…”
“Birger might have been protected against the Cthulhu, but was not immune to the Grim Reaper. He finally succumbed after a long and fruitful life. His funeral was legendary; it was attended by every Norse worth his salt, rivalries and feuds were put aside for the event. It went on for two days, and the ship built for his trip to Valhalla was magnificent to behold. The saga tells that as his ship burned and drifted out to sea, the clouds in the distance turned black and menacing. It is said, by some even to this day, that oil was found off the coast of this town, ensuring the region of his birth wealth and prosperity. “
“Wow. Have you been to this shrine?”
“Yes, once, and for my visit a local craftsman carved me the Elder rune out of wood. I keep it in my office for safekeeping. I was told that it only works for those with Norse blood running through their veins, no matter how little. “
“Does that include you?”
“I hope I never need to find out…I am sure that any Viking blood in me is rather diluted by now. “
“Well yes...” she signed and rose to her feet, “guess I better go back and wrap up this Norwegian business. I think they will need my advice for a few days to come.”
“Well, at least there is one type of evil they don’t have to deal with…”
“Very true…lucky buggers…”
