The Norns
By Marina
A/N: This is my first fanfiction, and it has taken me ages to figure out. I
just have to warn you: I very rarely stick to a plot, but hopefully, this
story would be good. Or at least mediocre. Oh, and you might think my
spelling's a bit funny. Most of it probably isn't, cos I'm British (Rule
Brittania, Brittania rules the waves! Brittania shall never be slaves!),
but there might just be the occasional genuine mistake.
Disclaimer: Everything that you recognise from the books belongs to Jo.
Stuff- besides the three Norns, which belong to Viking legends- which you
don't recognise from the books- or anything- belong to yours truly.
On with the show.
Prologue (Towards the end of the tenth century, AD)
The three sisters were growing tired. Urd, Verdandi and Skuld were getting weary, and were planning to go to rest. Let the people rule their own lives. They were growing tired of forever weaving fate. But one day, it would all start to unravel, and hell would break loose. Fate would unravel itself from their careful stitching.
They didn't care, really. Not anymore. Skuld never had cared; all she had ever cared about was herself. They were growing older, slowly, little by little, wrinkles were creeping over their faces. The other gods were growing older and more exhausted, just as the mortal Vikings below on Midgard, their once-faithful followers, were beginning to get tired of their Pagan beliefs. Christianity was spreading through them, like the wrinkles on the god's once beautiful and youthful faces.
The three Norns had throbbing fingers; the needles had not been kind to them. They struggled as they embroidered one last tapestry. They knew they would not be able to finish it just yet. They didn't know if they ever would. This tapestry would be their last masterpiece, and they knew. It would determine one thing in the far, far away future, but they didn't know when. Their knowledge was starting to fade from them, and their bodies became wrinkled and crumpled.
Urd was the oldest. Her neck was always straining to look over her shoulder at the past. Suddenly, she could take no more. She dropped her sewing needles to the floor, and fell into a deep sleep. Verdandi was the youngest, but hadn't noticed what had happened, for she was growing weak and blind, and could no longer perceive as much as she had once. She was the Norn of the Here-and-Now. Skuld had known that Urd was to die, but in advance, for she was the Norn of the future, but she didn't care. Urd was in her precious past now. She was to busy preparing herself for the time, when she, too, would drop into a sleep like Urd. She seized thinking and working, and she too fell asleep. Again, Verdandi didn't notice. She could only see herself dropping the needles, then no more. The other gods had fallen as soon as she had fallen, who at that moment, they had all knew that no one needed or wanted or believed in them. But they weren't quite dead. They'd had enough magic to live for a long, long time, and had just simply fallen asleep. They didn't know who or when they would wake, but they knew that one day, they would awaken.
On with the show.
Prologue (Towards the end of the tenth century, AD)
The three sisters were growing tired. Urd, Verdandi and Skuld were getting weary, and were planning to go to rest. Let the people rule their own lives. They were growing tired of forever weaving fate. But one day, it would all start to unravel, and hell would break loose. Fate would unravel itself from their careful stitching.
They didn't care, really. Not anymore. Skuld never had cared; all she had ever cared about was herself. They were growing older, slowly, little by little, wrinkles were creeping over their faces. The other gods were growing older and more exhausted, just as the mortal Vikings below on Midgard, their once-faithful followers, were beginning to get tired of their Pagan beliefs. Christianity was spreading through them, like the wrinkles on the god's once beautiful and youthful faces.
The three Norns had throbbing fingers; the needles had not been kind to them. They struggled as they embroidered one last tapestry. They knew they would not be able to finish it just yet. They didn't know if they ever would. This tapestry would be their last masterpiece, and they knew. It would determine one thing in the far, far away future, but they didn't know when. Their knowledge was starting to fade from them, and their bodies became wrinkled and crumpled.
Urd was the oldest. Her neck was always straining to look over her shoulder at the past. Suddenly, she could take no more. She dropped her sewing needles to the floor, and fell into a deep sleep. Verdandi was the youngest, but hadn't noticed what had happened, for she was growing weak and blind, and could no longer perceive as much as she had once. She was the Norn of the Here-and-Now. Skuld had known that Urd was to die, but in advance, for she was the Norn of the future, but she didn't care. Urd was in her precious past now. She was to busy preparing herself for the time, when she, too, would drop into a sleep like Urd. She seized thinking and working, and she too fell asleep. Again, Verdandi didn't notice. She could only see herself dropping the needles, then no more. The other gods had fallen as soon as she had fallen, who at that moment, they had all knew that no one needed or wanted or believed in them. But they weren't quite dead. They'd had enough magic to live for a long, long time, and had just simply fallen asleep. They didn't know who or when they would wake, but they knew that one day, they would awaken.