Chapter 45 - the Searching IV
Later in the evening, when everyone was at their ease… Arroch caught the eyes of Sooth and Theyer. They knew that look, and they slowly made their way over to have a quiet word with him.
"Aye man, I know that look. What now. You had said, we were to do nothing, and be entertained."
"Aye. Nothing's changed on that count."
"Why the look, then."
"Were you not in the tavern, and did we not hear, what we heard?"
"Aye."
"We did."
"You do not know who we dine with, who we tip horns with, then."
"Our friends?"
"No, you fool. The oracle?"
"What of it."
"The oracle, as we call it… is here. We spend idle time with him."
Theyer and Sooth looked at one another. Puzzled. They looked over, and saw the old man again, talking to Ryeamund seated to his right, and Shan seated to his left.
"No…"
"Arroch, you can't possibly…"
"Would I lie about such a thing as that? I swear it."
"He… spoke plain to you?"
"Aye. Quite plain. I almost shit myself."
"Are you sure…"
"Do you need bold news, to convince you of it?"
"Arroch, after all we have been through. I would not accuse you of lying now. Yet… all right, we ask for nothing for ourselves. Could you not ask, out loud, if he is who you think he is? That way, we will all know."
"Aye, the first person that comes? The bold news comes with them."
Arroch looked at them. He looked around, no one could hear them. He spoke softly, with his eyes closed.
"Odin. Are you really here, with us?"
"Hmm. This might take a bit."
"Yes, we are alone."
The wait was not very long. They heard footsteps coming. It was Gullina. She wasn't drunk, but she was a wee bit tipsy and smiling. She stopped and grinned at them.
"How wonderful is it, men? He is real, and he dines with us this night."
Arroch looked at his friends, who said nothing.
"Who, Gullina."
"Why, the old man Patch, of course. He is real as anything!"
"Aye, was this ever a matter, lady Gullina."
"Oh. Me and Eira… we thought… Shan's friend was imaginary. And? He's real. It's so wonderful to have him here with us. He's a charming old man, I tell you. Oh, what you men must think of me. I apologize. Var? Has gotten one too many goblets into me. You can't help but have fun with her. Well, I'm off."
"Need any more be said."
"Aye. I might piss me trousers."
"Is that all? I shall be lucky not to shit in mine twice."
They all looked over, and the old man caught their eye. Smiled. Placed one hand over his white eye, and winked with his good one.
"Why is he here?"
"Sooth, you fool. He is little Rye's father, you know."
"Shan? Is his grandson…"
"Aye. Remember the tavern-keeper? He looked out for Shan when he was little."
"How… do we honor him?"
"We can't. Is it not enough to simply know such a thing?"
"Aye. I hope he is pleased with us."
Arroch chuckled.
"He is. He said so, plain to me. Now then, are you prepared for what else?"
"Arroch. We are friends to Odinson. We were honored enough to fight with him, at his very side. Now the all father himself, is actually here. You really can't put me in much more awe, you know."
"Our women."
"What of them?"
"What do people call them, if even in jest."
"And what do public jests have to do, with logic and reason."
"Well. Is little Rye not often in jest, teased to be Odinson by all that meet him?"
"He is… I will grant you that."
"Well, if we were to look at the women, what do people often enough jest of them."
"The scratch cats. The king's royal cat pack…"
"Valkyrim. The men always called them, the Valkyrim."
"Aye."
"How can that even be…"
"Think, fools. Does Ryeamund know who he is?"
"No."
"The women? Are the same. That's who they are, I swear it."
Theyer. The reckoner, laid it out for them.
"Aye. It stands to reason. Follow me on this. Once we accept who Ryeamund is, and who Eira is… would it take such a great leap, as to imagine three Valkyrim to go with her?"
"Are there not more of them about…"
"Fool! Do not jest of it!"
"Do I jest much? There were many more gods, in the old scrolls. You all remember the tales the men in their grays told us as children."
"Hmm. I would then next wonder who Wulfgar really is. Who was the god of death…"
Arroch cleared his throat, and rolled his eyes.
"What?"
"Not the god of death, yet close. The god of hunting. He is Uller."
"He always was close friends with Odin, in the tales."
"Aye. Once you accept the North Star, and who he is…"
"Aye. Well, it never was hard to respect Wulfgar, was it?"
"Quite easy."
"At least, the gods are pleased with us."
"Aye. We performed their will."
"Aye, and greater still, is the pity of it all."
"What pity?"
"We know it's true. Many times over. And? None would believe us. We'd be declared madmen. If only people knew…"
"I remember being little. The grays entertaining us with the stories."
"Aye. Then? We grew up, and decided there were no gods."
"And, it's just as the old tales said. The gods are all around you, and you just don't realize it."
Theyer smiled broadly.
"Explains one thing, I'll say."
"What?"
"Var fucks as hard as she fights. Have any of you, even once, wished for any other woman?"
"No."
"Nor I…"
"We were given great gefts. All of us, and Odin be praised."
The old man? Smiled at them, from across the way. Tapped his forehead and swished his hand out. There was nothing left to say, about any of it. They just walked over, and rejoined the group at the long table in the front of the house. They took turns waiting on the old man, the new guest. Other than smile at their wives, and be thankful for all they had been given and been given to know? It was all they could do.