Olaf

Season of the Phoenix - 1304 AE

Olaf's gut tightened and dropped as he focused on the waypoint. Nerves sizzled and frayed as he felt his concentration waver for the slightest of moments before being dropped into a cascading deluge of rain. Waypoints… Wonderful things - one could say almost perfect. The downside to using them of course being the inability of the user to to know the weather on the point they are aiming for.

Shrugging deeper into the precautionary coat he had donned earlier, he looked over to where Valdi and Endenvar were standing. Both looked like drowned rats. Smiling briefly at their washed out appearance, he walked forward, eager to get to Wolfpaw Shrine where he would find his mother. Endenvar's sudden grip on his shoulder turned him abruptly.

"Olaf, we can't go further in this downpour." Endenvar shouted to him, fighting to be heard over the reverberations of the thunder rolling through the forested mountains. "Vanjir's Stead is right here. Let's take shelter there until the storm has passed… or at the very least has calmed."

Olaf looked back at his old friend, noting his soaked clothes, wet hair and soggy sideburns. Rivulets of rainwater making paths down his weathered face and dripping onto his surcoat. Behind him, Valdi hunched forlornly in the downpour. His gangly frame showed the promise of developing into a fine specimen of Nornhood. The light of the waypoint cast shadows on his angular face in the darkness of the storm. Lightening flashed across the landscape bringing the tall trees that surrounded them in sharp relief. Olaf's gaze was drawn to Vanjir's Stead behind Valdi with its conclave roof covered in thick moss and its wooden door bolted against the storm that raged around them. Olaf strained his eyes to see in the gloom of the storm, his vision, usually excellent, hampered by the shadowy landscape that surrounded them. Unease flashed through him as he regarded the lodge; desperately he sought to find the source of the disquiet that crawled down his spine. His gaze, ever searching the shadows surrounding the lodge, eventually stopped on a small lean to. At first he could not decipher what had drawn his attention. A flash of lightening and a deafening boom of thunder soon answered that question. Under the sloped eave of the lean to perched two bone minions, their small cat like paws intertwined with each other's in a parody of holding hands. The lightening reflected brightly off their sharp toothed sculls as their hollow eyes followed his movement. In his chest, Olaf's heart thudded against his rib cage. Until he had seen those malignant aberrations, he would never know peace; they would haunt him no matter where he went. Such was their power. Soon he would have no choice; they had sent a blood fiend, a bone fiend, and now bone minions… If they sent a flesh golem, he knew his time was up. His grey eyes sought those of his closest friend.

"I am running out of time Endenvar." Olaf shouted, gesturing to the lean to, "I need to do this before I enter their domain, my mother deserves to see her son one last time."

Endenvar frowned, but said nothing; instead he turned and looked to where Olaf was pointing. Although Olaf could not hear his sharply indrawn breath, he could see it. He had not told him about the bone fiend at the spring.

"We must persevere," he shouted, turning once more in the direction of Wolfpaw Shrine. He adjusted his pack, bowed his head, and continued onwards. Indifferent as to whether Endenvar or Valdi were following him. He could hear Endenvar shout something to Valdi. Olaf stumbled ahead cursing unseen obstacles and his rotten luck. Only a fool would attempt to navigate Lornar's pass when a summer tempest was in full swing. The storms built up over the Bloodtide Coast for days before making their way through the Shiverpeaks. The surrounding mountains were infamous for attracting lightning, and during a full blown storm, the night sky was known to be illuminated like the light of day. The rumbling thunder had become a lullaby that Lorner's Pass denizens came to expect during the summer months.

Valdi remained behind, while Endenvar followed. Olaf glanced askance at Endenvars approach

"He's too young to become embroiled with those crones" Endenvar shouted as answer to his unspoken question.

"So are we!"

Their progress was slow. Hampered not only by the weather, but of thoughts of what was ahead of them. For Olaf, there was the knowledge of his failure; failure to protect his hearth and family and failure to let the Matriarch know of his transgressions. Endenvar was also conflicted, for him his Norn nature waged war with his self-preservation. On one hand he was willing to face any foe in the pursuit of glory and friendship, but on the other was the sure knowledge that any who had entered that particular Citadel never left it. He was willing to follow his friend anywhere, but like most Norn who had started their life's journey in Timberland Falls, he suspected that Jormag's Lair was safer than the place his old friend had to travel to.

Endenvar had known Olaf near his whole life, both drawn together by their lack of paternal influence, his father having died before his sixth winter, and Olaf never knowing his. In his twelfth year, when his mother was taken by an avalanche while hunting, Olaf's mother, Xanthia, took him in. In their home he had always been accepted, and Olaf and he were raised as brothers. Xanthia was kind and doting, she taught the boys strength, fortitude and respect for the Spirits of the Wild. When Endenvar had displayed Mesmer abilities while in the throes of puberty, she had found someone Kyesjard willing to pass on the art of control, while she herself taught her youth how to utilize the greatsword, hammer, sword and axe. Under her tutelage they had a happy childhood. They loved her dearly and, while they wandered the wilds and experienced many adventures together, they would always come home to Kyesjard and Xanthia. It was a happy time for Olaf and Endenvar. That period of happiness ended the night Olaf met Gylda. Suddenly his priorities had changed. A rift formed in their friendship then, one that took many years to heal. When Olaf told Xanthia who his heart's desire was, her eyes grew troubled. She never said anything about his choice in mate, but her expression had spoken volumes to Endenvar. He watched as she became more worried, as she grew thin and ragged from the knowledge of her son's choice. She never spoke to him of her worries, she never did anything but support him. So Endenvar had taken her burden. He fought and shouted and threatened, but Olaf would not hear reason. 'The heart wants what the heart wants' he had retorted. Although nothing Olaf could say or do could convince Gylda to leave her father's hearth. Xanthia had taken matters in hand then. She told her son that for someone like Gylda, the fear of rejection was a very real thing. She said that for Gylda, a fresh start was imperative. So she had arranged for them to stay with relatives in Wayfarer, and helped him build his hearth. 'Stay near him' she had said to Endenvar, 'Watch over him when I can't.' At the time, Endenvar had not understood the significance of her request. It was but a month later, when both he and Olaf were standing over her grave that her meaning was driven home. They never did discover what happened to her, but Endenvar had a suspicion, one which he could not prove.

So he had built his Lodge near Olaf's, and when the wild beckoned, he had joined Olaf in their many adventures. He could see how their wandersome ways took their toll on Gylda, who never left Olaf's newly built hearth. The everpresent dimples began to fade, as Olaf's disregard took its toll. She started a herb garden outside her home that flourished under her care. While adventuring he would take care to find interesting seeds for her to add to her growing collection of plants. Her excitement at such a small gesture allowed Endenvar to understand what it was that made Olaf fall in love with a Norn that came from a family with as soiled a reputation. Soon, Gylda became pregnant with Aliana and it seemed the sadness that had made its home in Sunspear was lifted. Aliana was a blessing, not only for the residents of Sunspear, but for himself too. He had loved that smiling child as if she was his own. He could not describe the loss he felt when he had gone to visit his friend and found him in a pool of his own blood or the despair and anger he encountered when he followed Gylda's bloody limping trail to a dead end. He was Norn enough to admit that part of him would never forgive his friend for what he had done.

Nearly halfway to the shrine, they were attacked by a marauding Earth Elemental. With a shout and a gleam in his eye, Olaf anticipated destroying the magical creature with glee, finally having a focal point to release the anger and frustration that had been building within him. Gesturing to his friend to stay back he advanced with his mighty greatsword. He attacked with the vehemence of blind rage scoring the stone with little damage Endenvar attacked from afar with winds of chaos weakening the elemental and strengthening Olaf but Earth elementals were known for their preservation and fortitude. Around them thunder cracked, while lightning acted as a strobe light to the futile battle in front of Endenvar, the jerking movements of their battle coming in flashes. It seemed that the rain fell harder as the storm picked up intensity. Whatever part of them was dry soon became drenched with the force of the rain, sweat and blood. The landscape, already shadowy, became darker still as the worst of the storm hit them with the force of a gale. There was a shout of pain as Olaf weakened to the relentless attack, Endenvar created a clone with his phase retreat to bolster Olaf and distract the elemental. In a final effort Endenvar simultaneously Summoned a chaos storm and Olaf thundered a charge rendering the hostile creature into a pile of rocks. Breathing deeply and bleeding from a plethora of superficial scrapes and cuts he lent heavily on his greatsword and regarded the rubble before him. Not looking up from his contemplation he asked;

"What am I going to do, Endenvar? How do I make this right?"

The words were swallowed by the tempest that raged around them. While Endenvar could not hear him, he got the gist of what he was saying from the forlorn expression and posture that Olaf displayed. It was as if the sky was sharing his pain.

Endenvar walked up to his friend and put his hand on his shoulder, squeezed it lightly, before he helped him to his feet.

"We persevere, Olaf, no matter what the circumstances. That is the way of the Norn."

Once more they continued to the shrine in the lessening rain. By the time they reached the steeply hilly landscape where the shrine was located, the sun was cautiously showing its face from behind the clouds. One could say that the rest of their journey was pleasant, but to do that you would have to discount the chaffing of their leathers on their skin, the stinging of rain and sweat in Olaf's wounds, the heaviness of their packs pulling down on them, the mud that clung to their boots, the cold that seeped into their bones, and most importantly, their heavy hearts as they moved through territory that was wholly familiar to them, but which neither had had the heart to visit since Xanthia's passing. They remained silent the rest of the way to the shrine, both contemplating the fate ahead of them. Every now and again Olaf would see the two bone minions darting between the trees, their movement seeming to belong to a much more agile creature than the abominations they were.

The first they saw of the shrine was the glowing eyes of wolf cubs, huddled around the wooden structure. The brazier that was in its heart burnt warmly, and, even though they were a distance from the shrine, they could feel its warmth penetrating their travel worn bodies. As they drew nearer to the shrine the wolf cubs scattered, Olaf assumed to a nearby den where they would find their mother. When they were near enough, both simultaneously sunk to their knees and paid homage to Wolf.

"Grant us the power to contain our ferocity, to release it when needed." They intoned, "Grant us the fortitude to remain loyal to our companions no matter the dark paths we tread. May you lead us into adventures unsung, lands unexplored, and depths undelved. Our strength is in our numbers, our hearts beat for those who share in our glory. Now and forever"

They beat thrice against their breast before ending in a massive howl that reverberated in the clearing. After a second, the undulation of their song was joined by the cubs hiding in their den. Smiling sheepishly they stood. Their prayer heard and in a manner answered, they got to the business of what had bought them so out of their way in the first place.

Behind the shrine stood a large boulder, and behind that was a small grave, its stone marker carved carefully into bold knots with a slight clearing in its workings for the name Xanthia Clearwater written in bold runic. Recently someone had placed a red iris under its shadow. Protected as it was by the boulder and shrine, the gravesite was undisturbed by the storm that had so recently raged in the area. Olaf fell to his knees in front of the small gravestone; his hand gently caressed the workings of the stone knots before coming to rest on the outlines of his mother's name. Fingers moving of their own accord, he traced the outlines of it. Endenvar turned his back, hoping to give his friend the privacy he needed.

"I've failed mamma," He whispered to the hard stone, "I didn't listen when you told me to be attentive, I should've, but I didn't. I treated her like you, always assuming she'd be there when I got back. And now she is gone, and so are you."

He rested his forehead against the hard stone, it was cold and the harsh grain of it bit into his skin, uncaring he hugged it closer.

"I tried to kill our child. At the time I thought it was the right thing to do, but as time has gone on I have doubts." He frowned and hugged the gravestone tighter still, "I keep thinking about the consequence of my actions that night. If I had been calmer, if I had thought before acting… maybe… maybe, Gylda and Aliana would still be here. I think I killed her mamma. I think I killed them both. I keep looking, but I can't find her. Them. You would have been proud of her mamma; she fought me like a demon trying to protect the child. And in return I killed her." A deep, racking sob broke from his chest. Endenvar pretended not to hear it. "Her mothers are calling me mamma. They have sent their creatures and they will have me no matter if I come willingly or not. I am scared mamma. I know I deserve whatever cruelty they have planned, but mamma, I am scared. How do I tell them I killed their child. Their only daughter. How do I explain that it was because I was trying to kill their grandchild? Your grandchild."

He rubbed his bearded cheek against the harshness of the stone and tried to control the harsh emotions that whirled within him. A single tear made its path down his face before melting into his beard.

"I should have told them sooner… should have told you sooner. I have so much regret mamma. Endenvar is coming with me, you chose me a good brother mamma, he would make you proud. Good bye mamma, I'll see you soon."

He untangled himself from the stone and stood, looking down at the epitaph he had written the last time he had come to see his mother, the day they had buried her. The words on the stone could never do her justice, to Olaf she was the greatest Norn to live, not just because she died bravely, but because she lived wholly for others. Some achieved great legends that were passed down through the ages, stories that were told to give thrills and chills. Xanthia's legend on Tyria wasn't that large, but the mark it left on Olaf and Endenvar was one that would pass down the roots of their families... Or whatever family they had left. Breathing deeply of the rain fresh air, Olaf took tight rein on his emotions before turning to his friend, knowing he too would like to say his goodbyes to the woman who considered him her son.

Endenvar was kneeling by a small hollow in the boulder, his massive shoulders obscuring whatever it was he was looking at. Curious, Olaf stepped up to his friend, and bent to look at what he had so gently cupped in his hand. Two very serious blue eyes looked up at him from Endenvar's palm. Its head was far larger than its body, and it staggered under the weight of it, the only thing allowing it to balance being the large bat like ears that twitched and moved with whatever emotion it was feeling. A small tuft of blue hair grew haphazardly on its otherwise bald head, which Endenvar was gently stroking with his index finger. Its small stumpy three toed feet could be seen peeking out of the weight of its strangely shaped gut. Small twig like arms held tightly to Endenvar's thumb as it gummed the tip of it industriously. The serious eyes were the only bright thing about it. At a glance Olaf could tell that the small creature was malnourished, the protruding gut and twig like limbs suggested that it had been a long time since the babe had received any sort of sustenance. The blue/green skin of its face was severely sunken in and while sucking Endenvar's thumb Olaf could see the misshapen protrusion of it's skull . Looking around, Olaf noticed the remnants of some sort of golem that had obviously contained the babe, a swaddling cloth lay wet and discarded where the infant had tried to free itself from the contraption. Looking closer at the child, Olaf couldnt help but notice where the babe had cut itself in its bid for escape from the golem, its little hands were riddled with scrapes. Carefully, as not to scare it, Endenvar opened the first few buttons of his shirt and eased the creature inside it. He gently transferred it from his hand to the warmth of his skin where it tangled its small hands in his chest hair and promptly fell asleep, content to be near the warmth of his body.

"Endenvar."

"I can't leave it, Olaf."

"What can we do with it old friend? The place we will be going is far too dangerous. Besides, what do we know of asuran children? I didnt even know if they could breed nevermind produce a child. Hell, I thought they licked a swab, inserted it into a golem and a fully grown Asura popped out the other end!"

"I can't leave it, Olaf."

"Well we can't take it! For Bear's sake, Endenvar, if it comes with us its as good as dead!"

Endenvar looked belligerently up at Olaf. Although Endenvar said nothing Olaf could read his expression. It said no. It said it couldn't leave the babe to be eaten by the wild things. It said that he could never leave a child to the elements like Olaf had planned to leave his that fateful night.

"Fine." He sighed, "But you keep it, its chance of survival is greater with you than I."