Many have heard of the games that my daughter and the hooded one play with the souls of men; many, too, of the woesome weavings of the Death-Carriers at their looms made of human remains. But none now know the old tales, of my days of glory and battle, when the men would swear themselves to me, those brave boars in battle. Then, truly, was I loved by men and women, and called upon in the great hours of need.

Valor, they called unto me, twisting the syllables of my name in their crude tongue – Neorun, Nerun, Northrun. By many names and many cries did they come to know me. There was a time when I lived fiercely joyous among throngs of warriors; now my halls are silent, and the choice of the battles go to other halls.

I tell you now, the tale that the scops remember not, of when the Gods and Elves went to war for the attainment of the world. It is a dark tale, from the depths of time, before the coming of the blind one and his seed. Listen you well, and you will learn how these things came to be:

The chariot of Sun rolled for the last time across the sky, marking the end of my childhood. On the morrow, I would be initiated into the Mysteries of my People, the women's craft and power. I had been deemed sufficiently fertile by my aunt, Sif the prophetess, for the yearly ritual, when I would lay with one of the men-priests and continue the rites of fertility that bound our land and ensured its bounty. I saw Sunna smile down at me, with a knowing glance behind her at the figure who followed on her heels; I turned and looked at my mother, who had left me with Frodi my father at my birth – Nott, the dark and glorious night. I gazed up at her wistfully, wishing that it were she who would be leading me through tomorrow; that honor had gone to my grandmother Holda, since the Mysteries were closed to anyone not of Vanir blood, the blood of Herne the Old. Sighing, I turned towards home, ready to settle down into my last night as a girl, not entirely sure if I was prepared to become a woman. Certainly, my training had been thorough, but there was enough that I had glimpsed to know that I had barely begun in my learning. The women of our people were powerful witches and seers, and I was to join the line of my foremothers as Queen someday, when Frodi stepped down.

As I approached home, I spotted my cousin, who was also to be initiated tomorrow. I waved as I drew close, and she motioned for me to duck inside one of the outbuildings with her. “Are you nervous?” she whispered frantically. “I can barely contain myself from excitement. It's like my head will pop off, and then they'll have to enchant it.” “Don't say such things, silly,” I whispered back. “I saw my mother again today; she looked sad. I wish she could -” Our aunt stepped briskly into the doorway, interrupting me. Standing with her hands on her hips, long golden hair in a braid over one shoulder, she looked us over. “Are you two ready for the vigil? Looks like not. Your hair isn't even braided yet,” she scolded. Embarrassed, we scuttled out, her voice following us all the way to the great hall. “Remember, you are to be present at my hall at the first sight of Moon's horses. Lateness will be punished!”

The huge golden doors swung open silently as we slipped into the hall. Inside, the air was smoky with preparations for the feast tomorrow after our ordeal. Torches flickered on all the pillars, and my father's thanes milled about the fire pit, drinking mead and playing dice. “Ho! There are the two birds,” Frodi shouted as he spotted us. “Best be getting ready, child; I'll not have my sister after me on your account. She does that enough without your help,” he said with a chuckle. “Ho! Menja!” he called to one of his giantess serving-women. “Take these girls to their chambers, and draw baths.”

A few hours later, freshly scrubbed and fidgeting nervously, we awaited our turn in the dark doorway of Sif's hall; the gloom deepened around us, and the first light rose over the eastern forest before the voice came. “Hail, Moon, bright joy to us!” called my grandmother from the darkness, a chorus of women echoing around her strong alto as they began the Moonchant. Suddenly, Aunt Sif was behind us, guiding us into the unlit hall with a firm hand. The notes of the Moonchant echoed strangely against the vaulted timbers, as I had only heard it in the open air. The effect was unnerving, adding to my sense of apprehension. What could this ceremony be, that required no light, and utmost secrecy? When Moon had shaken free of the horizon, and risen triumphantly into the sky, the ceremony began.

What could I now tell of what happened that night? I know now that it was not secrecy that held women's tongues; nay, it is too overwhelming to even speak of. But I was blooded, and Named Njerun, and bound to my cousin Njelen as heart-sister that night – Valor and Courage, we were Named, at the insistence of my aunt, the most powerful Seer of our people.


There came a day, a long time afterwards, after my brother was born, that our people encountered them – the light ones, shining ones, weaker than us in vigor and form but strong in magic and enchantment. They came from the stars, they said, from the worlds beyond ours, beyond the Tree, and spoke of strange creatures, and an odd dwelling place – a city, they called it, all made of silver and white – and the terror and death that had driven them from thence. We welcomed them among us, and there was much fellowship between us, and much sharing of knowledge. Much council and many messengers now passed between our people and the strangers, who had formed a world of magic and illusion in another part of the Great Tree.

It was one of these messengers that first brought the terrible news. The giants were on the war march. It had been long since our people and theirs had clashed, and many of the giants were friends to us, but the intrusion of the Elfar (or so they viewed it) had incited some of the more belligerent and irascible giants into a frenzy. They were ravaging the world of men, and seemed headed towards ours

My father gravely listened to the news, and the wise men huddled in council all day; the next morning, the spear went out to the tribes of our people, calling all to war. And so they gathered – the Snake, the Falcon, the Bear, the Salmon, the Eagle, the Cat, the Wolf... and ours, the Boar, royal king of the forest, royal line of the People. My aunt called me to her the night before the warriors marched out. “You will go with them, child. I have seen it in your threads.” I looked at her, shocked. “But, Aunt, I am barely fifteen; no warrior I. I have not been trained in weapons yet.” “This I know, child. But go you shall, for I will not be gainsaid. And you have other skills; they will need healing, after all.”

In the morning, when the news had spread, I caught my father's eyes, grave and gray. Sif held my baby brother up for him to kiss one last time, and we headed out. I held one of the great battle standards with their delicately woven golden boars, at the front, next to Frodi, with Njelen holding the other one on his left side, a pleasant surprise but which had the Sibyl's touch all over it.

It is still hard for me to describe exactly what happened on that great battlefield. The giants were strong, but our mixed throng, elves and Vanes, held them off for ten days, with much carnage on both sides. It was on the eleventh day that the tide broke. I do not know how it began, but the giants were gaining the upper hand; the elves fell back along the flanks, and our tribe was cut off from the others. Surrounded and facing almost certain death, we searched for an opening in the ranks of the enemy, but found none. Suddenly, an stray stone hit the king in the neck, and knocked him off his horse; the warriors saw it and faltered, and the giants strode in, wreaking havoc. I had no choice; later, I realised that the cold hands of the Sisters had laid hold of my cousin and me, and were directing our threads that day. I lifted up the standard, and hurled it with all my might into the eye of the nearest giant; Njelen used hers as a lance, and plowed into the fray. Seeing us, the elves raised up the war-chant, and charged, while our people renewed their attack, and met us in the middle. That day, the giants were bested, and the world of men saved.

When we returned to the home of our people, my aunt Sif met us at the gates. When she saw Njelen and me, she called out: “Hail to the Golden Boar and to the Bronze Sow! Hail to the granters of victory in battle! Long may you guide the steps of the warriors that call upon you.” And so, when men went to battle, they sacrificed a boar and a sow, and pledged their lives to us, and were called the boar-men, and wore upon their helmets our symbol, and were gathered unto our hall at their death, the greatest boar-sacrifice of all.