Hrjólfur Týr Úlfsson

[Ævar Hrafn]

The Death

It was a bright day, the air was chilly and winter was drawing near, out on the field three men stood in the cool breeze. Two of the men had their weapons out and pointed towards the third who was facing them, his eyes blood shot and his muscles rippling slightly, his skin moist with sweat, leaning heavily on his axe and blood dripping from a deep cut behind his left ear. You are bleeding and are exhausted Hrjólfur give up and accept your exile, the Þing even conceded upon allowing you to sail out to Norway on the next merchant ship so you wont be forced to fight for your life.
Hrjólfur started to respond when he heard the sound hoofes coming in their direction from over the hill, he swung around his weapon using his momentum to lift his axe and swing it at the man who had been speaking, he ducked but the axe rended open the flesh on his forehead, splitting open his skull and spilling out a gush of blood and gore accompanied by a suprised yelp from the other man. Hrjólfur ripped his axe from the man's skull and started towards the other man who now held a short sword and a shield.
He had better armour than his partner who was now writhing on the ground trying to hold pressure on the wound which was obviously fatal, but the injured man was in shock and wasn't accepting his inevitable death. The burly man standing infront of him clad in chainmail along with an iron helm threw his short sword at Hrjólfur and struck his right thigh, Hrjólfur was so suprised the man would discard his weapon with no obvious backup weapon he started laughing. Then the other man leaped at Hrjólfur and got so close to him that Hrjólfur's axe was useless, then the man brought his shield up under Hrjólfurs chin.
Hrjólfur felt his jaw break and blood sprayed from his mouth, he fell on his back and spit out two and a half teeth , the other man stood up and was about to kick Hrjólfur in the face, when Hrjólfur ripped the sword from his leg and swung it vigorously in a wide arc striking the mans leg from behind where his leather pants left him open for attack and the sword sliced through the man's leg coming out just above his knee. The man roared in pain screaming for help as the riders came over the hill on Hrjólfurs far right. Hrjólfur tried to stand up but felt woozy and could not think clearly he fell backwards and landed on top of the man that had just lost his leg. The man screamed in agony and Hrjólfur reclaimed the short sword wich had fallen to the ground and cut open the mans throat and stabbed him in intestines spilling out bile. The horrid smell that followed cleared Hrjólfurs senses and he managed to stand up blood gushing from his open wounds, the cut behind his ear and the stab wound where the sword had struck him. He stabbed the sword into the ground and picked up his axe, working himself into a berserker frenzy praying to Thor for strength as the four men closed in on him.

Hrjólfur the man in the lead said, "the Þing was leniant in your case they were going to let you leave, but now you have killed two more men and this can not be abidden", then they all dismounted other than the man who had spoken known as Höskuldur, two of the men advanced on him both using long swords and wearing leather armor.
Hrjólfur let loose a vicious battle cry that startled even the horses then rushed towards them, one of the men backed away one step and lost his balance as Hrjólfur hit the other man in the chest with his axe tearing appart the leather hauberk, revealing a chain tunic under the now cut open leather armor. The man fell on his back from the blow and rolled on the ground to get to his sword, he reached out for the sword, but saw he would not make it since the frenzied Hrjólfur was about to swing at him again, he reached for his longseax unsheathed it and stuck it into Hrjólfurs ribcage, Hrjólfur felt the steel hit his armor and slip through the ring's of his crude chainmail.

Hrjólfur kicked the man back down from his sitting position and cleaved open the mans shoulder, blood was pumping out of the wound in streams of gore and steam was rising from the wound because of the cold and blood was covering the ground beneath the man. Hrjólfur then turned around threw his axe at Höskuldur, but the axe failed to hit Höskuldur but it struck his horse in the head killing it instantly. He then pulled the seax out of his body and stalked towards the man that had cowered away from him when he had let out the battle cry, who was infact Höskuldurs cousin who was known for lack of courage. Höskuldur came towards Hrjólfur with his daggers, and in a blinding flurry of attacks he had landed three shallow slices on Hrjólfurs cheeks. Hrjólfur was losing blood fast and managed to stab his longseax into Höskuld before the man's useless cousin hit Hrjólfur in the lower neck with a solid blow with his sword, snapping Hrjólfurs spinal column but not enough to decapitate him. Hrjólfur was aware long enough to feel his body go limp, he felt helpless he could not defend him self. The last thing he saw was Höskuldur standing up draging the seax out of his side and dropping it infront of his face, reaching for his sword and then there was only darkness.

The Ascent To Immortality

Hrjólfur awoke on a slab of rock feeling fine, he rose up rubbing the back of his neck and felt no pain, and didnt find any wounds. He concluded he must be in Asgard, he smiled to himself and thought Immortality, fighting, free mead and celebrations so the stories were true. He gathered his things, his axe was leaning onto the altar he had awoken on, his armour was mended and he felt younger than before, although not an old man at the age of 36 he didnt have the same endurance as when he was young, but now he felt as good as ever. He walked out of the chamber he had awoken in and entered a hallway, light shone through the windows in the hallway and Hrjólfur smiled and said to himself "My first day in the realm of the gods" this could get interesting.