Martha woke for the first time in the halls of Valhalla. Instead of the bright and airy atmosphere of Fensilar, Valhalla was dark and woody. It was constructed to look like a massive viking longboat that had been flipped upside down. Breakfast at Fensilar was usually pastries and fruit and often was set around a mood of comfort and joy. Valhalla was filled with meats and dark green vegetables, crusty bread and huge slabs of cheese and butter. Instead of the food appearing, it was served by older strong looking men and women. It was explained to her these were the dead who were honorable and wanted to serve the gods in the after life, but did not desire to be fighters. They apparently stayed in the halls of other gods relavent to their trades. Leather workers stayed with Vidar, Weaponsmiths stayed with Tyr who had them apprenticed to dwarves, Cooks and food service personnel stayed with Thor who was constantly eating, Idunna housed the gardeners and farmers, Freyr housed the ranchers, herders, and breeders, Freya of course housed the Valkyrie, but also had a special love of bacon so she had the pig sty's and the butchers. Frigga had a special place for weavers and healers as well as honorable witches and druids who wished to have an afterlife rather than have their life essence recycled. Hunters stayed with Skadi, and scholars and wise men and rune casters stayed with Odin in a special library that he kept to himself. Merchants and administrators stayed in the city center and kept the bustle of Asgard moving forward in the day to day. Most folks chose to retire in their after life, just behind the walls in helheim lay a huge plot of land dedicated to the honorable dead, this was a place with food and drink for all and no work need be done, and there were small reflective pools of water in which ancestors could watch their descendants and in some times of great need, they could request permission from Hel to lend strength or omens to their descendants to help them in their perils. Inside the halls of helheim itself lay a place of sleep, where the souls of those who no longer wished to exist, and also the useless, cowardly, or dishonorable would sleep painlessly and slowly sink into the ground until their souls would be broken down into the purest life essence and be sent to the roots of the great tree Yggdrassil to be used for something that may be greater than their life amounted to. Finally in Hel's great hall itself, the truly evil and vile were buried to their heads with just their faces poking out to be used as cobblestones, and the ceiling is crawling with vipers that drip a constant steady flow of venom into the eyes of the damned. At the center of the hall is a huge table covered in delicious food in complete darkness, and a single chair that is bathed in sunlight but remains empty waiting for the husband of Hel to be doted upon and loved with the eternal devotion that only the beautiful, hideous, and ever sad death herself can provide.

As Martha sat down she had a plate set in front of her by a chubby middle aged woman with rosy cheeks and curly black and grey hair sticking out of the sides of a maids bonnet. She took the cast iron plate cover off and revealed a hardy steak, eggs cooked perfectly with a load of salt and pepper, a pile of cooked spinach with chunks of ham, two crunchy slabs of bacon and, much to her surprise a chocolate cupcake with pink perfectly swirled icing and shining dark red cherry on top. "I thought I'd sneak ya in something from the bakery, you look like the type who enjoys a wee bit of sweets." Said the maid with a wink. "M'name's Lilliana and you just call if you need anythin'."

"Thank you, that's very kind." Said Martha. "Are there no sweets in Valhalla?"

"Oh sure, but only for special occasions, Odin only allows meat and veg and a little fruit for his warriors, wants them to grow stronger. I figured your first night counts as a special occasion though," replied the bubbly older woman.

"You chose to be a servant in your afterlife?" asked Martha.

"I could've never been a warrior me'self, but me mother taught me duty and honor in all things, so I do me duty and it's a great honor, and I can retire anytime I like, so don't you think you're putting me out by asking me for a favor." Replied Lilliana.

"Well that makes sense, I must say I envy your discipline and devotion. To serve by choice seems a much more difficult obligation to accept than to train and eat and someday fight a big battle. One sounds like a vigorous adventure, the other seems like work and toil."

"War is for those who want to destroy something, toil is for those who want to create. Me? I create cake! What better pursuit in after-life could there be than that? Oh! Worth every drop of sweat I say. Would you want to have an afterlife without cake? No ma'am! We bake all the goods for Fensilar as well, Frigga just prefers to serve the food herself with her own magic. It takes her a tremendous amount of effort each day to summon the food from the kitchens, but she considers it part of her obligation to you as a good host. So when the food appears magically to suit your exact emotional needs at the time? That's toil of a mother who looks after her children never even asking for so much as a thank you!"

"Odin doesn't use his magic in the same way?"

"Odin doesn't have as much magic to spare! He's not all powerful you know. He's a rune-carver and a wise man. He can ask the primal spirits of nature to aid him in great times of need, and he can solve almost any quarrel or problem with his god-like wit, but his magic is rare and subtle. Consider Frigga to be a flame thrower, and Odin to be a well placed match. Both can do just as much damage if you know how to use them proper, but there is a sure difference."

"You've been most informative Lilliana, tell me, is there a way for a mortal to get back to earth?"

"Other than a memory wipe and reincarnation, or the boon of the valkyrie, the only way I know of is to wait for Ragnarok. When the big war comes we'll be sent all over the place to keep the Jotun back as long as possible. Even us cooks will be running the camps while you are on the fields. We all do our part!"

"Thank you so much, how can I ever repay you?"

"Eat the cupcake first! I want to see your face."

Martha took a bit from the cupcake and had to stifle a moan. "Thuss us SUUUUUHHH Gudh!" Martha managed to say with a full mouth trying to figure out how to take two bites at once.

"OOOOOooo I just LOVE it when someone appreciates my work! Back to serving up this rabble, ta'!"

After devouring her cupcake and gnawing on some bacon Martha was relieved to find that the warriors were given a 30 minute warm up walk before the real training began to digest their food.

After wandering the grassy field outside until a horn sounded, everyone gathered at the center of the field for instructions. Newcomers were placed in classes based on their preferred weapons of choice under weapons masters. They drilled basic strikes and blocks for an hour until they worked up a good sweat. They then moved to "conditioning" and "body hardening" classes which consisted of weight lifting (which Martha had NEVER done but found she absolutely loved) and allowing yourself to be struck with light sticks on the arms, legs, chest, stomach and back. When Martha was waiting her turn for her beating designed to build pain tolerance and strengthen the bones she saw that there were several lines each with a different type of weapon being used based on your level of hardness. The very last line only had 3 people in it. Two men and one woman traded places striking and allowing themselves to be hit, with long iron bars. Every strike had a "ting" sound accompanied by a hard exhale from the person being struck as they tried not to show any pain.

After the body hardening session was complete, they began sparring. Everyone was paired up with someone of similar size and relative skill levels, and they were watched carefully by weapons masters who provided advice and corrected techniques.

It seemed that everyone fought with their own unique style and weapons and the masters tried only to compliment and improve what already came naturally to each person. There was no rigorous doctrine or adherence to a style or marching orders or formations. Instead everyone was focused on perfecting their individual craft.

The lunch horn sounded across the yard and tired, bruised and some wounded or dead (from the sparring matches) hobbled or were carried to the hall. As they entered the hall their wounds closed, their bruises faded, and everyone spent the day whole heartidly boasting about their achievements and congratulating each other on their improvements. Some couples whisked off to the sleeping quarters to share a private moment before eating, and others sat at the table fork and knife in hand with a napkin stuffed down their shirt.

Much to her surprise Martha found it easy to converse with a young looking samurai man who had died hundreds of years ago and served as her weapons master. "So Martha, why did you choose a hammer and a knife? That seems like an unlikely combination, especially for a house wife."

"Um... well I didn't quite choose them, they were just what was on hand when I... well..."

"When you died?"

"Yes..."

"To enter Fensilar you must die in battle, and fight fiercely enough to impress the Valkyries. Were you a great warrior in your home land? Did you fight many battles?" Asked her teacher.

"No... I fought just the one battle... and it killed me," Replied Martha looking distant.

"Ohh! You must've have fought with true spirit to make it here then! You must be a NATURAL warrior! I'm excited to see your potential! A viking fellow told me that you might want to be a Valkyrie yourself some day! No one knows how they are made, but if anyone has a shot it'll be you. I'm SURE of it!"

"Were you in many battles Master?" asked Martha.

"One or two, but I fought many duels. I'm a rare case, I died alone in a cave, but i refused to die an old man, so I sat and waited with my sword in my hands ready for any challengers. My body remained kneeling ready for battle long after I had passed. The Valkyrie made an exception for me because I died with every intention of going out swinging. That is why you will see some who have no weapon. They died in a fierce internal battle against cancer or depression or even old age. Some refuse to die even when their body gives out and so the Valkyries judge their unspent potential."

"So you don't necessarily have to be in combat just... fighting?" Asked Martha.

"Hai!" replied the samurai.

The food arrived and the theme this time was the food of the Mexican Zapatista revolutionaries. It seemed every meal was themed around great warriors from history. Lunch was tortillas, various stewed and grilled meats and vegetables, cheese, avacado, salsa, and Tequila.

The flavors were authentic and delightful and something about the surprise of not knowing what was coming seemed to help with the idea that this was going to be a long 9 years.

After the meal there was an hour long break, and then the afternoon battle began. The army was split into two factions, Black and Red.

The newer people were pushed to the front lines to assure that they would see at least some action, then the battle horn blew. The two sides charged at eachother screaming fury and strength. Martha was nearly deafened and found herself faster than many of her fellows who appears to all be charging at about the same pace. Giving over to the emotion of the affair however, she plowed forward a few paces ahead. She leapt off of the shield of the opponent directly in front of her, a tactic that she had learned in Fensilar, and found herself already broken through the enemy lines. In Fensilar many warriors would do this all at once, and so she would have allies on either side to fight with. Here however, she was alone and surrounded by the enemy. In the Fensilar camp a warrior who made it through their lines would find themselves quickly cut down from all sides. For Martha though, rather than being efficiently dispatched, a hole formed around her. She found herself in a ring of armored and fiersome warriors. A man in black and red wooden samurai armor stepped into the circle. His face-plate bore a vicious looking japanese demon and he drew a long sword from one hand and a shorter dagger in the other.

"My name is Miyamoto Musashi, and I challenge you."

"I am Martha McTerre, and I accept." Responded the woman.

Miyamoto stepped to the side and Martha was instantly blinded as he exposed the setting sun hidden behind his shoulder. Dazzled by the light and sensing movement she raised her meat tenderizer to parry where she could only guess the blow was coming from. She had guessed wrong. Musashi had lunged deep to her side and slashed clean through her legs sending her toppling to the ground looking at her stumps as they poured blood into the grass around her. Rage came over her and she crawled at the samurai and smashed his foot with her hammer and slashed at his ankles. He jumped back and limped back into a fighting stance. Martha started to get dizzy and began to feel nauseous. She forced down the feeling and scampered towards him. She stabbled at his thigh and he brought his sword down pinning her knife hand to the ground. He stood holding his sword into the earth as her blade was just narrowly short of its mark. She bellowed a deep throated primal cry and slammed her hammer into his hand that was still clutching the sword. He let go of the sword and Martha tried to use free her hand by knocking the sword to the side with her hammer. Musashi took a lightening fast step and her hammer wielding hand was completely sliced off with a flash of Miyamoto's smaller dagger.

Miyamoto Musashi then crouched next to her and lifted his face plate. A familiar smiling face came into view. "You broke my hand and my toes! I'm proud of you Martha! You're my new number one pupil! Sit by me at dinner!"

"No sit by me!" said a voice with a western accent.

"No by me!" English.

"You wounded Musashi! You're awesome!"

"...she was still fighting with her legs cut off? Man that's a stone cold bitch right there... shit was GANGSTA!" said someone else

"Lok'tar friend, the horde would be honored to have you!" said some green guy.

Martha finally faded out of consciousness from the blood loss.