Sigurth (Part 1- Avenging Sigmund)

I sat up straight in bed, cold sweat trickling down my neck. I tried to slow my breathing, but my pounding heart made it difficult. The nightmares were hard to ignore.

I could never remember what my father looked like. His appearance would change every time I dreamt. Some nights, he has a flaming red beard. On other nights, I would first notice the intense battle scars lining his arms. But he always looked stronger, mightier, faster, and quicker than the other men. Indeed, my father was far from ordinary. King Sigmund of the Franks, with a bloodline of the finest warrior kings. His powerful nature secured him a legacy and a name that could not be forgotten. His sons grew after him with the same reputation of honor.

Even though many of us aren't fortunate to remember him, I thought.

I constantly relived that moment in my dreams, when King Sigmund rushed into battle. The sons of Hunding were fierce opponents, and there were many of them. Sigmund raised his sword valiantly; his arm had no lack of movement against his foes. My father seemed a hero, a conqueror, a victor. But then the worst son of Hunding, Lyngvi, snuck up behind. That Lyngvi was as sly as Loki himself. This foul man raised himself from his kneeling position and struck my father in the neck. King Sigmund was weakened and fell on his face at the blow. He made some movements and attempts, but Sigmund could not stand up again.

This was where my dreams always became nightmares.

My father's breath was snuffed out while his children were still young. My uncle also died and left his sons and daughters with no provider. Though connected by blood, my brothers and I went different ways. We did what we could with the caretakers we could find- or that found us.

Reflecting on my past, I stood up and considered my room. I had been tossing and turning so much that my woolen blanket fell off me. I picked it up and carelessly dropped it on my mattress. I had only the most comfortable bed, with rare animal skins sewn around the straw cushions, but the bed didn't help me sleep at night.

I got dressed in chainmail and ducked under the door to step outside. I wanted to find Regin, my current foster father. It was not hard to locate him. He had a hall specifically for carpeting, stonework, and the making of weapons. This hall was always busy, for Regin never let his servants or apprentices slow their pace. I saw Regin standing among the workers banging their tools and transporters carrying items to and fro. He was a dwarf in height compared to the average man in the room. Yet his renown reached the heavens.

"Hello, Regin. Are you ready to prove yet again that you're the most skilled of men? I have recently heard how you belittled your foes, carving ornaments and runes that they could not match."

Regin was giving commands to a servant boy when I addressed him. Now, he turned away from the boy to meet my gaze. I always thought it funny how he had to crane back his neck to do so. "Ah, Sigurth, the son of Sigmund! Yes, yes, a man's work is never done. But you seem to be in low spirits today. I see a worriedness behind your smile; your eyes tell that something is amiss."

I laughed as if Regin was mistaken. "Ah, you are a wise one, but you say that to me too often. Nothing is amiss. No need to concern yourself."

Regin scrutinized me. "Well, you are a clever boy, but you fail to realize that you've told me that two times in the past, and both times I had been proven right that something was bothering you. The first time was when you came into my fine dining hall all those years ago. It was when I invited you to live under my care, though you faked that you already had a family and home."

I interjected, "Yet, that was partly true. In my youth, I grew up in the home of Alf, the son of King Hjalprek. He was my mother's second husband and never treated me wrongly. You know I only wanted to leave because of tensions between us, and to learn a trade from a man still better."

Regin made a face of annoyance and continued his point as if I had never spoken. "The second time was right after you sought prophecies from your uncle Gripir. Though you have not told me everything, I know that wise man prophesied some tragedy in your fate. Your face became disfigured for many days as his words weighed down on your thoughts. Now, those are my two stories where I was shown to be right. Let us go to a quieter space, and you shall tell me the secrets of your heart."

I followed Regin as he led me out of his work hall. Seeking to redeem myself, I boasted, "I'll have you know that Gripir's prophecies did not bother me as deeply as you seem to think. I know no man can control the fate that the Norns bestow on him. The tapestry of fate is permanent once those sister goddesses weave it."

Regin chuckled. "If you believed that, you would not press Gripir for answers as much as you did. But no matter. We have come to a quiet bench. Let us sit and discuss."

I sat beside Regin, stretching my legs far out while he could hardly reach the stone floor. "Listen, my wise foster father, it is simply a nightmare that troubles my mind. I cannot help but think of King Sigmund with some degree of sadness."

"Ah." Regin nodded. "I understand what it is like to miss the way things were. Yet, the worst is holding a grudge that you cannot take revenge on."

I thought for a moment. "You are referring to your brother Fafnir?"

"That is partly why I took you under my wing. My eye admired you the first time you entered my fine dining hall. I thought, 'What a clever boy! And look at his strength!' It seemed guaranteed to me that you would do nicely."

"Nicely for what purpose? Do you intend to send me out to battle?"

Regin snickered. "Not a normal battle, no. But it will be quite a fight. After all these years of telling you stories, I thought that you would hate Fafnir as much as I do and offer yourself up for this job of revenge. I'm surprised and disappointed that I must prod you on like this, Sigurth."

I became angry at his words. "The sons of Hunding would laugh if I avenged you on your brother before killing them for how they treated my father. There is no way I would kill Fafnir before King Sigmund is avenged. It is my duty as his son."

"Alright, then, pack up a ship and leave tomorrow morning if you wish too!" Regin exclaimed with a red face. "But let me remind you why I must see Fafnir as a corpse before I die. I don't think you feel strongly enough for the woes of your own foster-father."

Thus, Regin began to tell his story:

"It started at Andvari's Falls. My family always loved watching that waterfall cascade down into a pool teeming with all kinds of fish. We had a brother named Otter, so-called because he was constantly swimming in those falls in the form of an otter. Those were the good days! But once, when Otter had caught a salmon and was laying on the bank with his eyes closed, Odin, Loki, and Honir came to Andvari's Falls. Loki, the proudest of the Aesir, threw a stone and killed our brother. They skinned him and made him into a bag. A bag! That same evening, they came as guests to Hreithmar's house and showed him what they had made. I was there, and immediately recognized the skin and fur of my brother. We captured them and threatened their lives if they did not fill that bag with gold and covered the outside with it as well.

"So, the Aesir sent Loki to acquire the gold. He went back to Andvari's Falls and found the fish Andvari. Seeing that this fish had plenty of wealth, Loki stole every last bit and used it to cover and fill the bag. All that Andvari had left was one gold ring, but Odin took this to hide the last whisker that was still visible. Hreithmar, our father, accepted these gifts. Loki warned him that the gold could cause his death and the death of us, his sons, but Hreithmar felt sure that the treasure would be his all his life. It was not meant to be.

"Fafnir and I asked our father for a portion of the wealth, but he refused. Then, my cursed brother killed Hreithmar with a sword while he slept. Hreithmar called out to my sisters, but no one could help him. He died, and Fafnir took all the treasure. He wouldn't let me have a piece! And I talked to him ever so pleasantly! Anyway, Fafnir became a dragon and now lies on the land of Gnitaheith. He has a helmet of terror that still casts fear into the hearts of all living things. I cannot face him. That's why you must."

I had listened attentively. Now, it was time to speak. "Dear Regin, I understand, but I cannot do it. I don't even have a suitable weapon or warband to defeat the sons of Hunding. How could I face a fierce dragon with a helmet of terror?"

"You're worried about weapons and crewmen?" Regin laughed. "Wait, my clever boy, and by tomorrow, I shall give you a weapon worthy of killing a dragon."

With that, my skilled foster father left for his work hall.

The next day, I was awoken by a heavy thud. There was labored breathing outside the door of my room. I immediately stood and looked to see who it was. It was Regin, holding a sword much too heavy for his size. I was in shock.

"Is this the sword you have made for me in one day?" I asked.

Regin wiped the sweat off his brow. "Indeed. I wanted to take it to you myself. I call this wonder of craftmanship 'Gram.' Observe the studs of almandine and amber on the hilt! Surely, such a beautiful blade will ensure your victory."

I shook my head. "Beauty is not what ensures a blade's greatness. I must test it to see how it slices and how it fits my grasp. Thankfully, I know the perfect test."

I took Regin to the Rhine River. We stood together on the bank, watching the water rush downstream in waves.

"Go ahead of me with this tuft of wool," I told Regin, handing the wool to him. "Drop it in the water and let it come to my sword. Surely, it will get stuck on the blade and be unable to move further. But, if the wool is split in half and continues on like water, then I shall know that this weapon is perfect for my missions."

Regin walked ahead and dropped the tuft into the river. I held my sword deep in anticipation, already surprised by how comfortable it felt compared to other swords. Regin truly crafted something specifically built for me. I watched the river for the wool- and was shocked when my blade seamlessly split it in half! Yelling the news to Regin, I excitedly pulled the blade out and dried the water off using a spare cloth.

"Another test!" I proposed to Regin as he walked back to me.

We ventured to Regin's work hall, and I rushed to a stone anvil in the back. Raising my mighty sword, I slammed it down on the anvil. The stone was cut in half like butter. It seemed unreal as I stepped back and observed what I had done to the solid stone.

Regin placed a hand on my back. "Don't you see? Now, you are ready to slay a dragon for me."

I looked at him displeased. "Yes, I will, but I have to avenge King Sigmund first. I told you, the sons of Hunding would mock me if I did otherwise."

Regin shrugged. "If you're so adamant, prepare to be avenged by the end of the month. I will ask King Hjalprek to outfit us with ships and warriors. Surely, he will help us. The king is a good friend and my best customer."

I never understood how Regin could have so many connections to high places, yet he was right (like always). King Hjalprek gave me a strong and fierce crew. The fleet of longships was just as impressive. I couldn't have been more pleased.

My spirits were soaring the day we took off from the bay. I had seen no nightmares the previous night. It must have been a good omen! We sailed at breakneck speeds. I felt the wind in my hair and watched the waves passing smoothly along our hull. Breathing the salty air, my entire body felt refreshed. I was going right where I needed to be.

"Ah, I don't like the clouds up ahead." Regin came beside me with a grim gaze. "Sigurth, stop closing your eyes in happiness and take a look at this horizon!"

I opened my eyes and saw dark clouds looming in front of us. "You're right, wise Regin. And the breeze blows with a sudden chill, don't you think?"

Soon, there was a drizzle. The cold water pricked at my skin unpleasantly. Then, the rain escalated and began to pour. My men were drenched as they rushed around the deck. The sails were closed, and the crew sat at the oars. But, at this point, the swells were so large that no action of the rowers made any difference. The strong winds sent white caps all around us. Sea spray flew high above our bow. I crouched low to the deck for fear of falling off. My eyes squinted through the downpour, and my ears struggled to hear anything above the high whistling sounds of the wind.

One of my navigators came close behind me. Grabbing my shoulder, he leaned his mouth close to my ear. "Pardon me, Sigurth, the son of Sigmund! We must get closer to the shore. There is a certain headland nearby; hopefully, we can get to the lee of the mountains and be harbored from the storm. Or else, we must fear capsize."

I immediately agreed, and we journeyed through the crashing sea towards the headland. I wasn't proud of this delay, but I had to admit a sense of relief. Part of me was worried about facing my father's killers. But, mainly, I was relieved to have fewer waves and less wind rocking our longship. We still pitched to and fro, and the rain did not relent, but it was more comfortable than it had been farther out at sea.

Around this time, I fancied I heard a voice yelling. I looked to the shore and saw a man standing on a rock. I could barely make out his words, but I could tell he was asking who we were.

Regin cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled in response: "Here I am, with Sigurth, the son of the late King Sigmund. I tell you, this breeze will blow us to our deaths! The storm will wreck our ships. A high wave is coming over on the deck right now. But who is it that's asking?"

The man answered, "They call me 'Battle-Stirrer,' but you can call me 'Man on the Rock,' 'Burden,' or 'Spellcaster,' maybe. I want a ride."

I wondered why he didn't give us a straight name. Was he hiding something? Regin and I both felt inclined to give the stranger a ride. Our ship pulled alongside the rock, and the man jumped onboard without hesitation. Immediately, the wind stopped whistling, and the waves died down. I was shocked at how fast the weather improved. This man must be a god. Based on the first name he said, it might be Odin himself!

I spoke up. "Tell me, Battle-Stirrer, since you seem to know the omens of gods and humans, what is the best type of omen for when men are about to fight?"

Battle-Stirrer smiled and said in a husky voice, "There are many, if you know how to read them. Watch out for black ravens. If they follow you, you will fight a winning battle. Also, if you are on the street and see two men preparing for war in their yard, then you will win too. And if you hear a wolf howl under the branches of an ash tree, you will have good luck if you see your enemy first."

"Alright." I nodded and thought over these omens. "Is there anything I shouldn't do, when trying to go into battle?"

"Yes, young Sigurth, of course!" Battle-Stirrer laughed as if amused. "No one should leave for battle facing the setting sun. Bold men only have victories if they can see and line up in formation. Oh, and don't forget to eat beforehand! You never know where you'll be in the evening, so don't leave home hungry."

"Thank you. That's sound advice."

My heart was in high spirits again. We took Battle-Stirrer to the nearby port he wanted to go to and then continued to my enemies. Landing on those hostile shores, just like my father did all those years ago, sent tingles of excitement down my spine. I was finally doing what I needed to do. I was going to avenge King Sigmund.

I perceived a ruckus higher in the city. The sons of Hunding were grabbing their weapons and running down to meet us. Some men seemed panicked. Others seemed more determined and braver. All I knew was that my sword, Gram, was in my hands and that I felt invincible. I wasn't rushing around commanding my men in earnest. I was standing, cool, calm, and collected, while my father's killers came to me. Running to their own death, I thought.

From the first man that came close enough, I slashed my sword and moved towards the city. Gram could slice through the thickest shield and chainmail. I watched my enemies' faces as they beheld my weapon with shock and terror. Their knees were buckling with fright. Soon enough, the mighty sons of Hunding were retreating.

I gave a mighty war whoop. "Regin, look around! This fight is as smooth as could be!"

"Oh, don't get so cocky." I heard a deep voice at my side.

I turned around and saw a large man. He had thick straight hair, a billowing beard, and menacing brows. More alarming than his face, however, was a sword he held with his left hand. He fingered the blade as he paced around me.

"Son of Sigmund, you look confused. How foolish of you, to not recognize your father's murderer!"

"Lyngvi!" I exclaimed, tightening my grip on Gram. "You're going to regret revealing your identity to me! Now, you certainly will die with no mercy bestowed on you."

"Ha!" The son of Hunding gave a roaring laugh. "You think you can kill me? You are hardly experienced in battle. You think a strong sword is all that makes a warrior. But you couldn't kill with your bare hands, Sigurth."

"I could do better than you, old man!" I taunted. "I am only in the budding years of my greatest strength, and where are you? You're long past the days of your prime, Lyngvi! I can tell by the grey in your beard. You were about my age when you killed my father, and now you're fighting his son with the expectation to win again? How do you think you are as strong as you used to be? Someone needs to humble you and make you pay!"

Lyngvi snarled and lunged at me. He thrust his sword forward, and I barely side-stepped out of the way. I knew that many of my taunts were just meaningless words. This man still held abnormal strength compared to others. He slashed at me, and it took everything I had to block his attacks. But, at the end of the day, I knew Lyngvi's greatest strength was only his deceitfulness. His hatred for me could never be as strong as my hatred for him.

I lifted Gram and rushed towards Lyngvi. I swiped and thrust my sword at breakneck speeds. I watched his face turn from confident to panicked as he stumbled backward at my onslaught. Closer, closer… Now, Lyngvi came crashing down with his backside to the dirt. He tried to scramble away, but I showed no mercy. My blade pierced him through, and my father's murderer slumped lifelessly at my feet. I took off his chainmail and turned him onto his stomach. I was embarrassed that I had been so hasty and now couldn't torture him while he was alive, yet I could still leave the shame of torture on his body. So, I performed the "bloody eagle."

Digging my blade deep into Lyngvi's skin, I removed his ribs one by one. My mind imagined the screams this hateful man would give at the pain. I did not act in haste with Lyngvi's three brothers. Those sons of Hunding got their pain in full. I did not flinch at their blood-curdling shrieks as I removed their ribs with them alive. Regin congratulated me once the battle was over,

"Now the bloody eagle is carved on the back of Sigmund's killer. I told you that sword would treat you well! Certainly, no better man than Sigurth has ever soaked the earth with blood and set a better table for the flesh-craving ravens."

Sigurth (Part 2- Avenging Regin)

It had been some weeks since my defeat of Lyngvi and the other sons of Hunding. Life had resumed in Hjalprek's kingdom, yet Regin continuously encouraged me to defeat his brother Fafnir. I knew I owed it to my foster father. It was the right thing to do. So now, Regin and I walked to the land of Gnitaheith, where Fafnir was lying with Andvari's treasure. On the way, I questioned how I could fight Fafnir without dying from his helmet of terror or his brute strength.

"How can a man fight a dragon head-to-head? Not only that, but Fafnir has a golden helmet that is blessed by the gods! Dear Regin, the sword you crafted for me is unparalleled, but I must fight your brother with my mind and not my muscles."

Regin agreed. "Do what you need to do. Let's keep our eye out for the best strategy."

We turned a corner around the hill, and I suddenly saw a mound of smooth purple material in the distance. Approaching, I squinted as the outline of scales became apparent. The dragon Fafnir was sleeping with his head nuzzled underneath his large forearm. Gold was piled underneath him, but Regin had always told me that no man could take a single piece without this fierce dragon noticing. I admired all the sparkling treasures with deep longing. Most of all, I craved the bright helmet that glinted beside his face. Fafnir wasn't wearing his helmet of terror, but it was right by his snout. He must put it on first-thing when he wakes up every day, I thought.

Without thinking, my body began to move towards the helmet. It was made of the purest gold I had ever seen. How could a piece of armor be so beautiful? I watched hungrily as Fafnir's form rose and fell with each slow breath. He was still sleeping! Surely, I could…

"Sigurth, leave it for later!" Regin's sharp voice cut through my delusions. I turned to look at him, and he continued sternly, "There is no point going for a piece of gold. He'll kill you on the spot, and then it will all remain his. Remember how you wanted a plan? Stick to a way of strategy."

I grumbled and moved away. I knew Regin was right. But that didn't mean I was happy about it.

As I was stepping away, something caught my eye.

"Look, what's that?" I asked Regin, pointing to a large imprint in the dirt. This little ditch led from where Fafnir's body lay to somewhere I could not see from where I was. "Could it be a track that Regin regularly walks on?"

Regin nodded, as if relieved that I was distracted from the gold. "Certainly, Sigurth. The barbs on his tail must drag on the ground as he walks. Let's see where this path ends."

We walked along the little ditch and came to a water source. "This must be where Fafnir drinks water," Regin concluded. "He will come here eventually. If you dig a pit on the path and hide in it, maybe you can pierce him as he walks above you. That way, you might conclude the fight without giving him a chance to attack you at all!"

"It sounds great to me," I smiled. "You know, Regin, you could have done this task yourself all those years ago. Are you sure you don't want to take Gram and kill your brother by your own strength?" I asked.

"Phew! Of course not," Regin scoffed. "I can barely raise that sword. No, I am much too old for this. And, truly, I vested all my courage in you, and I desire to see you do the deed. It is wise to let a young man avenge those he cares for, in exchange for all the care previously given to him while he was younger."

"Wise words by a wise man. Now, I must take a shovel and dig the pit."

I did so, which was not as difficult as it was time-consuming. Right when I finished, I heard Fafnir move from his sleeping spot. The dragon shook the earth as he stepped down from his pile of gold. Each breath was heavy and produced smoke in the air.

I felt panicked and hurried to hide myself in the hole. I clutched to the soil and kept my eyes on the opening above. The ground beneath me vibrated as Fafnir slithered closer. I held Gram at the ready. I leaped up as soon as I saw the purple scales of Fafnir's belly slide over my head. My blade pierced deep in between the plates of his skin. The dragon trembled and thrashed his head with an unbearably loud screech of pain. I took a quick breath and jumped out of the pit, using my hands to help myself clamber to the top.

Fafnir continued to wail and move chaotically. Then he saw me, and his dark eyes widened.

"Young man, young man!" he bellowed, with smoke curling around his lips. "Who is your father? What family are you from? Tell me, let me know who you are! I want to know who put this glistening sword in Fafnir's body. The sword is in my heart and has become red with my blood."

I looked into the dragon's eyes and thought for a moment. The words of a dying man are powerful. He might curse me by name, and what will I do then? So, I answered in a loud voice,

"I am called 'clever beast,' and I have always been a motherless son. I don't have a father like other men do. I am always alone, except for a friend that you hurt once!"

Fafnir tilted his scaly head. "If you had no father like the other sons of men do, in what strange way were you born?"

"I was born normally! That's not what I meant." I huffed out of annoyance. "Look, I think my family is unknown to you and my identity as well, so I will tell you this. I am named Sigurth, and my father was Sigmund. I meant that he died in my youth, so I was fatherless. But no matter. I am the one who struck you down, Fafnir. I was the one who stabbed you with a sharp weapon."

Fafnir bent his neck to look at me closely. I coughed at the smoke that erupted from his mouth. "Young Sigurth, who made you do it? Why did you let someone convince you to take my life? You fierce-eyed young man, no doubt you had a war-like father. I can see it in your eyes."

"My courage made me do it. My hands assisted me, and my sharp sword, too. Not many men are brave in adulthood if they were cowards as boys. And I didn't let myself grow up as a coward."

Fafnir chuckled weakly. "I know, if you had grown up with your own family to embrace you, then you might have killed me for courage's sake. But you must be a prisoner, one taken in war and forced into this deed- they say captives always tremble."

My blood boiled hot. "Why do you mock me, Fafnir, for being far away from my father's kin? I am no prisoner, though I have been in war. Younoticed my fierce eyes, didn't you? That means you've noticed the way I live free."

"You think everything I say to you is mockery, but I am telling you the truth! Here's my point: My clanging gold- all my wealth that glows like embers against the evening sky- all these treasures will bring about your death. Leave it and go home."

I laughed. "Every man will have control of his wealth until his fated death-day. You have lost your chance at life to my hand, Fafnir. Everyone goes to Hel eventually. I deserve to have my time with the treasure now. Your time is over."

Fafnir's head crashed to the ground at this moment. His eyes blinked irregularly. I swelled with anticipation to see my nemesis die. But Fafnir raised his voice and sputtered,

"You'll meet your death if you sail too close to land. It would be a foolish death for a man like you. You'll drown in the water if you row in the wind. No matter where you go or what you do, everything becomes dangerous for a doomed man."

I took a shaky breath. I heard people say that Fafnir was wise and very knowledgeable. I hoped his words had no real weight. The dying dragon continued,

"I wore a terror-helmet against all men, all those years that I had sat on my treasure. I thought I alone was braver than everyone else. Not many came to meet me like you did."

"That terror-helmet will not save you or anyone else when angry men come together to fight. When a real battle starts, you'll always realize that there is no bravest man."

Fafnir reminisced with a dazed look, "I blew poison from my jaws, all those years that I had laid down on my father's treasure."

There was something in his face that made me respond tenderly. "You brave snake, you blew your poison, and you had a bold heart. But men hate you, and their hate grew every day because you had that helmet and your gold."

"I advise you, Sigurth, take my advice. Ride home from here. My clanging gold, this ember-glowing wealth, will bring about your death."

"I hear your advice, Fafnir, but I will ride to the gold where it lies on the ground. And you, you will die here. Hel will have you as a new member today."

Fafnir whispered through his clenched fangs. "It was Regin who put you up to this, wasn't it? My own brother betrayed me, and he will betray you as well. That man will bring death to us both. I think that I am close to dying, nearly at the point of crossing over. You had the greater strength, for now."

With that, the dragon shuddered and went still. I watched silently for a few moments, but Fafnir did not stir again. My heart felt heavy with his last words. I sat and wiped off the blood from my blade, not knowing what to think. At that low moment, Regin rushed into view.

"Hail, Sigurth!" he cheered, patting my back. "Now you've won a victory and killed Fafnir. Of all men who live on this earth, I think you're the least cowardly."

I sighed. "I don't know, Regin. It's impossible to say when we compare all the sons of the earth. Many brave and bold men have never had to bloody a sword in another man's chest."

"But you're happy now, Sigurth, wiping the blood off your sword in the grass. Rejoice in your victory! You have killed my brother, though I also had a part in that." Here, Regin grinned smugly.

I said passionately, "Truly, it was your advice that I should come here. You exhorted me so much that I hardly had a chance to say no."

Regin didn't answer but went to Fafnir's body. I watched in surprise as Regin struck his sword between the scales. He slashed at the area, not flinching as blood sprayed everywhere, until he had carved out Fafnir's heart. He held it in his hands and drank the blood from the wound. After a long time of drinking and savoring the flavor, my foster father turned to me.

"Sit now, Sigurth. Roast Fafnir's heart on the fire. I'm going to sleep, and once I wake up, I want a meal out of his heart. It will work well for me after that delicate drink of dragon's blood."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "You're going to sleep? You hid far away while I killed Fafnir with my sword. I tested my strength against that dragon while you crept in the bushes. And now you want me to cook for you?"

Regin shrugged. "You would have left that ancient monster creeping in the bushes himself, if you did not have the sword that I made for you. That sharp, good sword of yours, that let you avenge your father Sigmund."

I got to my feet at that last comment. "Look, a courageous heart means more than a sharp sword when men are in battle. I've seen a brave man win a victory despite fighting with a dull blade. I could have done it without Gram."

"Sure, sure." Regin made a face. "Of course, it's better to be bold than cowardly. It's also better to be cheerful rather than gloomy. There's no need to make a complaint! Be a good friend and roast the heart on a spit already."

I grumbled and got to work while Regin laid down to sleep. After turning the heart over the fire for a while, I figured the meat was fully cooked. I tried to test its tenderness by poking at it with my finger. Ouch! It was way too hot, and I pulled my finger back with a yelp. I quickly put my finger in my mouth to help ease the burning feeling. I tasted Fafnir's unusual blood on my tongue. I thought it was too sour, but I kept my finger there.

Suddenly, I noticed the chirping of some birds. I looked up and saw some wagtails in the branches of a nearby tree. Strange enough, I started to understand what they were saying! The first wagtail said, in a high-pitched voice,

"There sits Sigurth, splattered with blood. Look at how he's cooking Fafnir's heart on an open flame! I would say this prince was a wise man, if he were the one to eat the dragon's heart."

A second one said, in a deeper tone,

"And there lies Regin over there. He is pretending to sleep, but he's actually awake and conspiring against Sigurth. He'll betray this boy who trusts him! Regin is considering only evil things. He becomes angry whenever he thinks that it took so long for Sigurth to avenge him. Truly, now that wrongdoer will kill Sigurth, take all the gold for himself, and claim that he did it to avenge his brother Fafnir."

A third wagtail said,

"Sigurth should let that crafty Regin go straight to Hel, shorter by about a head. Then all the gold would be Sigurth's alone. He would get to keep the whole treasure of the dragon he slayed."

A fourth wagtail said,

"I would think Sigurth was wise if he knew how to heed your good advice, my sisters. He should set a table for the flesh-craving ravens. I always suspect a wolf when I see a wolf's ears sticking up. He should give the animals something to eat."

A fifth said, with the highest voice yet,

"Sigurth, who is now becoming the lord of many battles, is not as wise as I would have thought if he lets one brother live free and at ease when he has killed the other! Can he not see the danger of letting this second brother live?"

Two more wagtails agreed with the others, and I felt incented to stand up and declare,

"I would have a poor fate if Regin caused my death. I think both brothers should go together to Hel today."

I grabbed my sword and walked quickly towards Regin. That traitor had fallen asleep by now and didn't make a move. I couldn't believe what the wagtails had said! But I knew they had observed more than I ever could, and they had no reason to lie while discussing with each other. If they heard my foster father conspiring against me, then maybe Regin wasn't the kind of father figure I thought he was.

All these years, Regin told me he adopted me into his home for this mission. That's why he was rushing me to kill Fafnir so urgently. He never cared about me at all, did he?! No, he wanted to use me for his own selfish gain and then throw me out! Well, I won't let that villain carry out his plans against me. I'll show him.

I raised my sword high above my head and let it fall heavily on Regin's neck. His head rolled on the grass and faced me. His eyes were closed, and I desired for them to stay that way. There was no room for sympathy now. I had done what I had done.

I turned around and heard the wagtails snickering. Feeling my face go red, I marched indignantly to the heart of Fafnir. I picked it up and sank my teeth into the meat. It tasted sweet and yet bitter. I chewed and swallowed every last bit. I drank the blood of both Fafnir and of Regin. I would never again let anyone use me like my foster father had. Neither of them had deserved to live. It was my turn to take hold of the wealth they had tried to keep from me.

It was time for Sigurth to take control of his life without anyone holding him back.

-The End-