Measure of a Man
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story. All references to The Avengers belong to Marvel.
Summary: To make amends for his brother's deed, Thor arranges a memorial for those who fell on the Helicarrier and in New York.
Rating: K+. Nothing really bad, but deals with funeral rites and mourning.
Author's Note: This kinda came out of nowhere, and yes, I know that Coulson is still alive, as Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. has proven. The title and the quotes at the beginning and end are borrowed from Heather Dale's song "Measure of a Man" which mainly references the death of King Arthur, but in a podcast she describes singing this song at a medieval re-enactment where the organizers arranged a traditional Viking boat-burning in memory of loved ones from the re-enactment community who died in the previous year.
I'm a member of the same re-enactment group, and while I've never been to this particular event, I've been told that the boat-burning has become a yearly tradition. It is something that I look forward to seeing myself someday, and I felt, given the reasons behind the tradition that it would be appropriate for Phil Coulson (even though he's not dead).
On another note, I was absolutely thrilled to see that the research I did on Viking/Norse funeral rites appears to be correct, since they included a funeral scene in Thor: The Dark World.
Steel on steel
Break the blade that called him to his rest
And cast it to the deep
Light the pyre
Name the one whose shield is on his chest
And leave him to his sleep
The measure of a man
Stands or falls with what he leaves behind
Gather on the sand
Let your voices carry to the sky
Rise in light
Let the gods look down on this and wonder
Three months after the Battle of New York:
The sun was a pool of warm orange and red as it slowly sank towards the horizon. Where the light touched, a path reflected in the waves out to the west while the sky above the setting sun turned slowly to the deep blues and purples that heralded the onset of night. There was a quiet solemnity in the air, as if Nature herself was holding her breath in anticipation of what was to come.
On the flight deck of the Helicarrier, which was currently afloat rather than in the air, a crowd of agents and crew members had gathered alongside the six members of the Avengers team. Standing with them were their significant others, as well as both Director Fury and Deputy Director Hill. The SHIELD agents stood at parade rest, while the Avengers stood off to the side in their own group. Each member of the superhero team wore their uniforms, which although flashy, somehow added to the dignity of the moment.
On the edge of the deck, a six foot long, extremely shallow wooden boat rested on a platform which hung from the ropes that would normally have held one of the carrier's lifeboats. The wooden planks of the boat were sanded smooth and lacquered so that they reflected the fading light of the sun, turning the wood to a deep, warm red-orange. A thin mast bore a design on the fabric sail that was reminiscent of Old Norse designs, and near the bottom of the sail, words were inscribed in Asgardian runes. On the prow of the little boat was an exquisitely carved figurehead. The tiny ship was in and of itself a work of art.
The carrier was currently turned so that the gathered group faced off to the north, rather than directly into the setting sun. Those who were assembled were unsure what they were waiting for, but everyone understood the purpose of this gathering, even if they didn't know exactly what was going to happen.
Surprisingly enough, it was Thor who had arranged for this little gathering, with the help of Agents Romanoff and Barton, since they were currently the closest thing that the Avengers had to a SHIELD liaison while Fury was sorting through a shortlist of agents who would have the temperament and skills to deal with the volatile combination of personalities that made up the Avengers. However, even Fury hadn't been sure what to think when Thor had arrived on the Helicarrier, the little wooden boat cradled in his arms.
Finally, Thor stepped forward and approached the platform. He laid his hand along the smooth wood of the boat, bowing his head for a moment before he turned to face the assembled group. "As your sun descends through the sky this eve, we gather to bid our farewells to your fallen warriors. They have fought bravely and died in battle, and will be escorted to the halls of Valhalla by the Valkyries. There they will feast in celebration of life and battle until the coming of Ragnarok, when they shall fight once more. We come together, not to mourn their passing, but to partake in a celebration of lives shared and lost."
He paused for a moment, allowing the weight of his words to sink in. The only sound was the gentle lapping of the water against the Helicarrier's hull.
"This is a time to pay tribute with respect and honor, and send them to their rest. Among my people, a finely crafted ship will carry our farewells, that those who have gone will know that we celebrate them. I would ask that those who wish to send a farewell come forth, place your token in this craft, and speak the name of the one whom you honor so that their name may be carried to the halls of Valhalla, before we set it adrift upon Aegir's waters."
Thor's motions had an unexpected grace as he rejoined his team. Everything was still as the blues and purples of the sky continued to deepen and the golds and oranges of the sun continued to fade. There was a hushed stillness in the air; it seemed as if no one wanted to be the first one to step forward.
Unexpectedly, Clint broke free from the small cluster of the Avengers and moved toward the tiny craft. His quiver was slung over his back and he grasped a bow in his hand. As he approached the ship, he reached over his shoulder and withdrew a wooden arrow that had a scroll of paper tied tightly around the shaft. "There are too many names for me to say them all now," he began. "But this is for those who died during the attack upon this ship." With that, he stabbed the point of the arrow into the deck of the replica ship before he stepped back.
One by one, members of the crew took turns paying their respects, some placing small slips of paper with the name of the friend or loved one they had come to remember on the ship, others coming forward only to whisper the name before retaking their place among the assembled agents in the gathering darkness.
Steve was the only other member of the Avengers to approach the platform. His hand rested lightly against the wood of the little carved boat before he addressed the group. "I've lived through a war. The First World War was supposed to be "the war to end all wars" as they called it, but then we fought the Second World War. I told the Director, when I woke up from the ice they told me we'd won, but they didn't tell me what we'd lost."
He paused for a moment. "The thing is that it isn't a question of what we lose, but who we lose in these fights. Brothers-in-arms, friends, family…their lives are sacrificed for a purpose. It doesn't make the grief go away, but it can mitigate some of the pain. I've had the honor of standing among the people who serve on this ship and serving with all of you. I share in your grief. I may not be from this time, but grief isn't limited to one generation." He turned to face the boat and snapped off a sharp, military salute.
Finally, Fury took the steps necessary to reach the front of the group. "I'm not a religious man, and I have lost many men in my day. But of all the soldiers and agents whose lives were lost when this carrier was attacked, there is no other that was a greater loss to me than Phil Coulson, my one good eye. You will be missed, my friend."
Fury resumed his place beside Agents Hill and Sitwell as Thor again stepped forward, this time holding several bundles of wood in his hands. Right beside him was Natasha. She hadn't paid a tribute when the others did, but given her quiet and aloof nature, no one had expected her to. Rather, she was carrying a stone jar, and obviously meant to assist Thor. Carefully, Thor arranged the bundles of wood on the deck of the ship among the slips of paper and tokens that had been placed on the deck before he turned back to the assemblage.
"Grief is a burden which weighs down the spirits of the living and brings equal grief to those who have passed. In order to celebrate their lives, we must sacrifice that grief to the winds." He extended his hand and Agent Romanoff placed the jar in it. Thor opened the top and tipped the jar over the replica ship. Fragrant oil poured from the jar, coating the entire ship while the scent – a foreign one to those who had gathered, but one which somehow managed to evoke sadness, tranquility, and hope all at once – carried on the faint ocean breeze.
"All-father, guard the fallen warriors. May their souls travel with the Valkyries to the halls of Valhalla, where they will enjoy their rich reward as we gather here not to mourn, but to honor. We set this vessel in Aegir's waters, to sail the path among the stars, and we come not in grief, but in loving memory."
When the jar was empty, Thor handed it back to Natasha, who moved out of the way as Tony stepped forward. Together, the two men picked up the little boat and took to the air, flying out over the water for a short distance before descending and placing the ship on the waves. Once the craft was floating, both returned to the flight deck.
Clint moved to the edge of the flight deck. This time, he raised his bow, a wooden arrow already nocked to the string. He waited as Captain America stepped forward and lit a match, which he held to the arrow's head until the arrow caught flame. The darkness was almost complete now, with only the faintest traces of light in the sky, yet the archer did not seem concerned. He raised his bow to firing position and drew back the string. The flaming arrow licked dangerously close to his skin, but Clint didn't even flinch. After a moment, he released.
The flaming arrow soared through the air, over the water, blazing a trail in the dark sky, and landed squarely on the deck of the tiny ship that could just barely be seen. There was a moment's pause, before the ship burst into flame, the fragrant oil and the wooden bundles catching first. It only took a few seconds before the flames were roaring high enough to engulf the mast and sail, before settling back down and beginning to burn more slowly, consuming the lacquered wood and the tokens and slips of paper that had been placed upon it.
Fury turned slightly and made a signal, and a moment later all of the lights on the Helicarrier went out. The sun had completely faded from the sky, leaving only the stars above and the tiny speck of fire out on the open ocean for light. The group stood in silence, watching the boat burn amid the waves.
Raise the ring.
Cast the broken circle to the waves,
And give the sea her due.
Push the prow.
Let him lead the final charge again
Where all will follow soon.
The measure of a man
Stands or falls with what he leaves behind.
Gather on the sand.
Let your voices carry to the sky
Rise in light
Let the gods look down on this and wonder
- "Measure of a Man" by Heather Dale