Chapter Two: Nibelheim's Traditions.
Cloud could count on one hand the number of times his heart skipped a beat and the moment his mother brought in his Father's sword was number four. He stared at the rusted blade as Claudia placed it on the counter with a small grunt before turning to her son with a small smile.
"Get to work on restoring your Father's sword."
"What?" Cloud gaped at the order staring at his mother as if she had gone insane. "Why? What's going on?"
Claudia stared at him, impatience in her blue eyes. "Did you forget? It's almost time for the Festival of the Divine."
The remainder of the event caused Cloud to let out a sharp gasp. His eyes swiveled to the red-marked calendar behind the counter, and there, July 25th was circled in a bold blue to distinguish itself from the rest, but between studying for his exams, and making sure the shop's orders were filled, Cloud had completely forgotten about the festival and in turn, forgotten that he was to be his family's representative for the first time since his Father passed.
His mother had taken the mantle, presenting a gift to Odin, the God of War, Strength, Honor, and Death, but after the closure of last year's festival, his mother had deemed him old enough to represent their family and had formally passed the mantle to him. Cloud has been nervous and ecstatic, always watching his Father with awe as he was blessed by Odin year after year and now it was finally his turn.
However, it didn't take much for him to start screwing up by actually forgetting the festival. His poor Father was rolling his grave.
"I'm sorry, Mama." Cloud reached over and pressed a firm kiss against her pale cheek. "I'll start restoring his sword tonight."
The reassurance did nothing to assuage Claudia's impatience. She cast him a mildly disappointed look. "The festival is at the end of the month, Cloud. I need you to devote as much time as possible to restoring this sword, alright?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Good," Claudia nodded in approval before leaving him to his task. He moved to flip the sign from open to closed and moved to get his tools from underneath the counter and set to work.
He started brushing off the first layer of rust, his nose crunching as the motions kicked up a small cloud of red dust and how deep the rust had gotten. His Father would be disappointed at how poorly the sword was maintained. The blade, Ragnarok, was generational and ceremonial passed down from his Great-Great Grandfather and to him, but his Mother, in her grief, had simply stored the sword in their basement, wanting to be away from the memories that it brought.
Cloud swiped off the rust and set about removing the hilt, grunting and tightening his grip before unscrewing the hilt and set about sanding off the rust underneath.
"This is awful," Cloud laid the blade back down and reached for the cleaning solution pouring it over the blade and set to brushing off more rust. The length and width of the blade were wide and long and his arms ached by the time he finished brushing, wiping, and buffing off the rust on the blade and the hilt along with its small pieces.
Ragnarok was beautiful, but to Cloud? It was one of the worst swords to be brought into an actual battle. It was too large and too heavy and left the user wide open due to the stamina it would require to even swing it.
He hoped his Grandfather didn't use it.
As he was about to start polishing the more intricate parts of the blade, a knock on the glass door caught his attention and he looked up to see Tifa on the other side wearing a confused expression and tapping her watch to indicate that it was nowhere near time to close his shop.
He slipped off the stool and moved to open the door, allowing Tifa to slip in before closing and locking the door. He kept his back turned as he heard Tifa take an unoccupied stool behind the counter.
"What are you doing? You never close early." Tifa looked at the mess on the counter with a raised eyebrow. "You don't usually take on restoration work."
"It's for the Festival of the Divine," Cloud admitted softly, resuming his spot and set to cleaning up. He had managed to get to a decent point in the restoration and he was relieved that the sword would be done in time.
"Oh? This is your gift?"
"Yeah, Mama decided that Dad's sword would be the perfect offering for Odin this year." Cloud grinned, taking in Tifa's sudden shock. He didn't blame her. Ragnarok was the stuff of legend around Nibelheim. His Father had taken to lugging the massive blade around during the village's anniversary and during the transfer of power to him to pilot the ODIN UNIT.
"I was wondering what happened to it." Tifa stared at the rusted blade, taking in the work Cloud had managed to do. "So, Mama Strife is going to put this up as an offering? Why?"
"It's time," Cloud responded softly. "As much as she doesn't show it, she misses Dad, still loves him so deeply, and seeing the sword brings her nothing but pain."
"So, offering it to Odin is her way of closure?"
"I believe so, but knowing Mama, she-"
"Just wants to get rid of the damned thing." Cloud and Tifa chorused before throwing their head back in shared laughter, the sounds echoing and bouncing off the walls of the shop.
"So," Tifa began, her laughter tapering off into a soft, proud expression. "You're going to be the Strife Family Representative?"
"I am,"
"Congratulations, Cloud!" Tifa reached out and grasped Cloud's hands with her own. "I know you'll make Crimson and Mama Strife, proud."
Against Cloud's will, his cheeks flushed at the praise, and he lowered his gaze to the floor. "Thank you, Tifa. I'm excited that I can represent my family." He looked around the shop, taking in the certificates lining the walls along with examples of his family's work to draw in new clients. This, too, represented his family's legacy, and Cloud was proud to be a part of it—proud to bear it.
"Do you need help?" Tifa placed a hand on the tip of the blade. "It looks like you are doing a good job of it."
"I appreciate it, but no." Cloud smiled to soften the blow of his rejection. "This is something I need to do myself."
"Alright, I'll leave you to it, but I'm here if you need help, alright?"
"Of course. What offer will you bring for Odin this year?"
"My mother's crossbow," Tifa responded, grinning in the face of Cloud's surprise. "Yeah, Daddy was surprised about my choice in the offering."
"You love that crossbow," Cloud murmured, understanding the pain that she must've felt in offering it. "Are you sure you want to do it? You always use it during hunting season."
"I loved that crossbow just as much as you loved that sword." Tifa countered. "I held on to it because it reminded me of my mother and all of the memories that came with it, but I think that it's time for me to return it to her. It always was her favorite."
"I'm sure she didn't mind you borrowing it." Cloud had the grace to lower her gaze when he noticed two lone tears trailing down Tifa's cheeks. "You've made her proud, Tifa."
"And you've made Crimson proud, Cloud." Tifa reached over and grasped her hand with his own. "Of that, I'm sure."
"It's a little big." Cloud tugged on the collar of his shirt as he took himself in the long-length mirror. He tugged on the black trousers with his nose scrunched up. The clothing belonged to his Father and the fact that they hung off him reminded him that the man was massive even in his twilight years. His heart tightened as he took in the delicate silver stitching that had been added a year before his death. His Father wanted to spice up the ceremonial clothing and his mother was one to always indulge in her husband's whims.
"You look so handsome," Claudia murmured, reaching over for the black cloak and placing it over Cloud's shoulders. Her eyes drifted over to the wolf clasp - their family symbol - and let out a small huff. "You be sure to take care during the ceremony, Cloud. You represent me and your Father. Tread lightly in your words and actions and you will do well not to offend Odin."
"Yes, Mother."
Claudia looked pleased, giving him one last firm pat on his shoulders before guiding him out of the room and house proper. Outside, the town was covered in banners of white and black with torches leading the way up to the altar. Several stalls were open giving out drinks, and food, along with weapons and accessories that could be given to Odin as an offering and a token of thanks for guiding them through a good year.
"The ceremony will begin in a moment," Claudia stated, waving a hand in the direction of the hill that was lined by a series of torches. "Please take Ragnarok and offer a prayer and it to Odin. Father Lockhart is waiting."
"You won't be coming with me?" Cloud stated at his mother in confusion. For years, she had allowed him to come to the ceremony and watch the proceedings, but to see that she was not attending was odd.
"The first time of representation is to be done alone," Claudia responded, remorseful. "Would that I could, I would be there beside you as you made your first offering to Odin, but Father Lockhart insists that for the first time, it must be done alone."
Cloud's heart skipped a beat at the information, reaching out and embracing his mother. "I'll be back soon and with good news."
"I would expect no less." Claudia waved him off with a smile before turning on her heel and marching back to the shop. She never was one to indulge in the festivities after his father passed and Cloud could hardly blame her.
With one last look in his mother's direction, Cloud set off towards the Altar of Odin with Ragnarok in hand, his heart racing against his chest as the noise of the festival faded as he climbed the steep and rolling hills. He tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword as Father Lockhart greeted him at the top with a small, proud smile.
"Welcome Representative Strife. What do you have to offer?"
Cloud, swallowing, held up the sword. "Good Eve, Father Lockhart. I offer the Blade of Ragnarok as an offering to Odin. May I place the blade upon the altar?"
"You may, Representative Strife." Father Lockhart moved clear of the Altar, allowing Cloud to step forward. "May He accept this with pride and honor."
Cloud placed the blade on the altar, bowing his head as the flames of the torches roared and the eyes of Odin's statue glowed a deep crimson for a long moment - so long that Cloud wondered if an offense, but it was to his relief that the blade glowed a brilliantly blue light before scattering in a burst of energy. The sight, or rather, the disappearance of his family's sword caused the tightness in his chest to ease before turning to Father Lockhart who gave him a warm smile.
"Congratulations, Representative Strife on the first successful offering of the night. You have done your family proud."
Cloud swallowed tightly against the lump in his throat at the words, giving a short nod and watching as the flames died back down to a gentle flame, awaiting its next offering. He could tell his mother that they would have a good year of clients and sales and this would open up the opportunity of informing her that he wanted to leave the village and pursue a career as a Master Operator.
With a light heart, Cloud turned his back to the Altar and made his way back into the village proper. It was unfortunate, however, that if he had taken a moment to look at the mountains, he would have noticed the ominous glow that drenched its peak in a blood red - its color far opposite to the blessing of Odin.