Chapter 28 Trials of Strength
The Frozen North, Part V
The feast lasted until sunrise. Which was perfectly normal by Northman standards. Many warriors collapsed where they sat. Others simply continued drinking. A few somehow remained energetic enough to start singing. Loudly. Badly. Very badly. Moon spent most of the night quietly listening to stories. Kev stole food. Repeatedly. Gret drank enough ale to drown a horse. Toivo somehow found himself challenged to six separate duels, three wrestling matches, and one marriage proposal. He blamed Gret. Gret blamed the ale. Neither explanation helped. The following morning brought consequences. Not from drinking. From tradition. Northmen believed words meant little. Actions mattered. Strength mattered. Deeds mattered. And news of Toivo's accomplishments had spread through the settlement. The young warrior discovered this when dozens of Northmen gathered outside the great hall. Waiting. Watching. Grinning.
Toivo immediately became suspicious.
Gret looked far too amused.
"What's happening?"
"The trials."
"What trials?"
Gret's grin widened.
"The fun kind."
That answer terrified Toivo.
An hour later he stood inside a circular arena packed with spectators. Snow covered the ground. Hundreds of Northmen surrounded the ring. Children climbed rooftops. Warriors placed bets. The Jarl sat upon a carved wooden platform. Moon sat beside him wrapped in white robes. The child-sized god appeared perfectly calm. Several fairies peeked curiously from his sleeves. Kev remained in cat form. Comfortably asleep on Moon's lap. The traitor offered no support whatsoever.
The Jarl stood.
"FIRST!"
The crowd roared.
"WRESTLING!"
The roar became even louder.
Toivo sighed. Of course. A massive warrior entered the ring. Fair skin, red hair heavily muscular with Broad shoulders. Red beard. Muscles like tree trunks. The crowd cheered. The man grinned. Then pointed directly at Toivo. The crowd cheered louder.
Toivo looked toward Gret.
The giant warrior shrugged.
"Good luck."
"You could help."
"No."
The match began. The larger warrior immediately charged. Toivo barely avoided being crushed.The crowd loved it. For several minutes the two wrestled across the snow. Toivo was faster. His opponent was heavier. The larger warrior repeatedly attempted picking him up. Toivo repeatedly escaped.
Eventually Gret shouted from the sidelines.
"Stop running!"
"I'M NOT RUNNING!"
"Looks like running!"
The crowd agreed. Traitors. All of them. Finally Toivo changed tactics. When the larger warrior lunged again Toivo stepped aside. Grabbed his arm. Shifted his balance. And threw him. The giant man crashed into the snow. Silence followed. Then the entire arena erupted. The warrior himself laughed hardest. He rose immediately and embraced Toivo. The crowd approved. Northmen respected victory. Especially when earned. The first trial ended. The second proved much worse. Axes. Lots of axes. Apparently Northmen enjoyed throwing sharp objects for entertainment. Several targets were placed across a frozen field. Warriors competed for accuracy. Gret participated. Which immediately made everything unfair. The giant warrior buried every axe directly in the center of each target. The crowd barely reacted. Apparently this happened often. Toivo performed surprisingly well. Frostfang wasn't designed for throwing. Still, years of hunting helped. His axe struck near the center repeatedly. Not perfect. But respectable. Respectable became impressive when several experienced warriors scored lower. The crowd approved again. Moon quietly clapped. The simple gesture somehow pleased Toivo more than the cheering.
Then came hunting.The final trial. The most important one. Because hunting mattered. A warrior unable to hunt could not survive northern winters. Groups departed into the surrounding forests. Toivo joined Gret and several local hunters. Fresh snow covered the wilderness. Animal tracks crossed frozen streams. Ancient pines towered overhead. The silence felt familiar. Comforting. Home. Gret walked beside him. Neither spoke much. Neither needed to. The older warrior eventually glanced toward him.
"You've changed."
Toivo looked up.
"What do you mean?"
"You stand differently."
Toivo frowned.
Gret continued.
"When we met, you looked like a survivor."
The older warrior pointed ahead.
"Now you look like a warrior."
The words lingered. Because Gret rarely offered praise. When he did he meant it.
Hours later they found their prey. A winter bear. Enormous. Larger than any normal animal. The beast stood nearly twice the height of a man. Its fur resembled silver-white armor. Ancient scars crossed its body. The hunters exchanged nervous looks.
Even Gret seemed impressed.
"Big one."
The bear noticed them. That complicated matters immediately. The creature roared. Snow fell from nearby branches. Several hunters instinctively stepped backward. Not Toivo. Not anymore. Frostfang appeared in his hands. The bear charged. The forest exploded into motion. Hunters scattered. The beast smashed through trees. Its claws tore apart frozen earth. Toivo ran directly toward it. The crowd at the feast had never seen Nebelheim. They had never seen undead armies. Demons. Shadow wolves. Ancient horrors. Toivo had. A bear no longer seemed impossible. Dangerous. Yes. But not impossible. The creature struck. Toivo dodged. Frostfang flashed silver. The axe bit deep into the beast's shoulder. The bear roared. Gret charged from the side. His greataxe crashed into the animal's flank. Together they brought the creature down. The battle ended quickly afterward.
The hunters cheered. Toivo stood breathing heavily beside the fallen beast. For a moment he felt like the boy he used to be. The boy from the North. The hunter. The son of winter. Not a chosen warrior. Not a hero. Just Toivo. The journey back to Jarl's Hold felt lighter. The hunters carried their prize. Stories spread before they arrived. By evening the settlement already knew. Toivo had won the wrestling match. Performed well in the axe contests. Helped slay a winter bear. The stories grew larger with every telling. By sunset he had apparently fought three bears simultaneously. By nightfall someone claimed he wrestled a sea serpent. Northmen were terrible historians. The feast resumed. The crowd welcomed him loudly. The Jarl laughed. Gret looked proud. Moon smiled softly. And for the first time since returning to the North Toivo truly felt accepted. Not as a traveler. Not as a guest. But as one of them. A son of the North who had finally come home. Yet far beyond Jarl's Hold past the forests and frozen mountains a crystal coffin slowly continued opening. And blue eyes, cold as ancient winter, stared into the darkness. Watching. Waiting. Remembering.
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