When first I began my journey, I was ten and three years old. I remember my father's parting words, "Find Avalon. Ride hard, ride quick, let nothing stop you, not rain, or wind, ocean tide, or warrior. Touch it with your hands and feel it with your soul. Do this for me daughter, because I fear I will never get to do it myself."
A kiss to my forehead, as he spurred my horse, Fenrir, on with a smack to the rear. "You are our hope! Live on for us!"
I turned back for just a split second, to see my entire life lit up, against the night sky, by the fire of our enemies.
For a moment I moved to turn back, but a shout from my father spurred Fenrir into a fast, fierce gallop through the greenery "Hvata!"
I rode for days, weary in my saddle, and tired from my tears.
Eventually I must have fallen asleep, because I awoke as I hit the ground near Fenrir's hooves.
He neighed at me, nudging me with his long horse nose.
I swatted at him, and curled up into a lifeless ball on the cold hard ground.
Fenrir stamped his hooves irately, nudging me once more.
I swatted at him again, and again he nudged me.
I watched from the corner of my eye as he trotted over to a nearby tree. He kicked the trunk and several apples fell from its branches.
Fenrir neighed again and stamped his hooves.
"Oh fine you bloody Hestr! I'm comin'!"
I snatched up an apple and reluctantly ate.
Days passed in this way, riding, eating, and sleeping when and where I could.
Those days soon became weeks, and the weeks became years.
Years with only whispers of a place called Avalon.
I crossed oceans, fought battles and learned much on my travels.
Today, the eve of my father's death, and also the 19th anniversary of my birth, I find myself; and my trusty steed, atop a hill overlooking a place called Camelot.
Norse for "Go!"
Norse for "Horse"
Hvata
Hestr