Post by Astrid Hall on May 10, 2017 19:54:25 GMT
Trondheim, Norway
There comes a time in everyone's life where they have to return to their roots. To refocus, and return home.
Astrid sat on the rocks overlooking the sea, unusually silent in contemplation as she gazed out over the crashing waves as the sun set over the horizon. She remembered all the time that she would spend on these rocks as a little girl, dreaming of the days long past when the seas would be filled with longships packed with warriors bound to travel to distant lands, finding glory and honor on unknown shores. She imagined captaining her own ship, clad in furs and steel, sailing at the head of a ship of like-minded shieldmaidens bound to show the world that the women of Norway were as strong and fierce as the men. It was here that she first dreamed of what it would be like to have been a warrior in those days, and the thought of it had captivated her for the rest of her life. Her father, a fisherman, would often tell her that such dreams were folly in the world of today, and that she would be better suited to set her sights on a lower dream. With a creative mind like hers, he had told her, she could become an author or a songwriter. The idea had repulsed her. There was nothing she dreaded more than the idea of spending her life huddled behind a desk, slaving over some sheet of paper or computer, putting her thoughts into words in the hopes that others might understand them. Words were never what she used to share her ideas with the world - she had always been a girl of action.
It was said that a picture says a thousand words, and a woman in action is a series of pictures that tell a saga.
The woman that the world knew as Astrid Hall had been born here, on these rocks. This was the place where the little girl had become the warrior all those years ago, where she had promised herself to live a life of action, glory and honor or die trying, and she had never looked back.
She absently fidgeted with the silver amulet around her neck as she gazed over the water, eyes closing as she breathed in deeply to fill her lungs with the nostalgic scent of the salty sea air. She did not even hear the sounds of footsteps approaching behind her.
"You didn't come all this way just to look at the ocean, did you Astrid?" a deep male voice asked in her native tongue. Astrid smiled softly at the familiar voice, grateful not just at the comfort of speaking in Norwegian once again, but also of being in the same room as her father. She stood and turned, embracing the giant bear of a man with all of her considerable strength. The Norwegian Sea had a way of carving men into mountains, and her father had been fishing these waters for the better part of three decades.
"Papa," she replied lovingly as the two broke apart, grinning at one another with joy. "How did you know I was here? I hadn't told you yet that my flight had arrived half a day early."
The man shrugged. "This is your favorite place in the world, save perhaps the ring of battle," he replied. "I come here every sunset you are on distant shores, reminding myself of what turned you into the woman you are... and shaming myself for trying to stifle you."
The two of them sat next to one another, high above the water, staring into the fading light of the sun as it slipped further below the horizon. As the stars began to overtake the cloudless sky above them, her father spoke again. "You're worried that you're falling from the road."
Astrid nodded. "It's been a rough stretch," she admitted. "I'm not sure what exactly's been going wrong, but I'm not bringing the same fire that I used to bring to my fights. Next monday I'm scheduled to stand against the woman who won the Iron Maiden, and I'm just..." she shook her head. "I needed to come back here, to my roots. Hope they could remind me of who I used to be, bring back a bit of that old fire."
Her father took out a pipe and lit it in the growing twilight. "Perhaps the problem is looking for a fire to begin with," he noted.
"What do you mean?"
"It was not the fire that controlled our ancestors that you so revere, Astrid," he explained. "It was not Fire that shaped their path through the water. Not fire that could ensure that entire voyages would never return home. You speak of the fire in your heart, but in doing so you turn from what made our ancestors strong. They did not embrace the inner fire to travel to open water... the answer you seek is at your very fingertips."
Astrid glanced down at her hand, looking at the silver hammer amulet around her neck. Mjolnir. "The storm...?"
Her father nodded. "You know we watch your fights, love. We watch every match, and we're seeing you take that fire. But fire is fire. It starts in one place and spreads where the wind takes it. It can be quashed with water, wind or earth, and you can always know where it will spread and how hot it will burn."
Astrid nodded. The same thoughts had been playing on the edge of her mind as she watched the replays of the last few matches she had fought, matches she had lost or otherwise failed to achieve victory. "I've become predictable," she admitted at length. "Relying on my strength and size alone. It carried me far, but its not enough anymore. Shae knew everything I was going to do before it even happened. Every move scouted, because she knew which way the fire would spread."
Her father smiled knowingly. "I've watched that Pandora girl, too," he noted with a sparkle in his eye. "She'll have your number too if you don't change it up. She's chaotic. Unpredictable. If you want to match her, you'll have to embrace the same thing that makes her strong without abandoning who you are. Turn from the inexorable spread of fire, and turn to the unstoppable, unpredictable force of nature that is the storm. Let go of fear... and embrace it."
Astrid stood, smiling into the briny sea wind as the waves crashed on the rocks below her. She smiled into the air, shrugging off her coat and spreading her arms as she faced the ocean wind... before running forward and leaping off the cliff, diving into the cold embrace of the thrashing ocean below.
It was good to be home.
"Pandora Freeman."
Astrid is in armor as the camera brings her into view, sharpening a broad axe with a simple whetstone as she speaks. She smiles with every word, maintaining eye contact with the camera as she talks without ever losing pace with her bladework.
"You know Pandora, I'm really glad that you and I are getting the opportunity to go one on one this week. I really am. See, you taught me a valuable lesson in the Iron Maiden - one that I should have learned a while ago, but that took an unfortunately long time to learn - I need to use more than just strength and courage to succeed in the Imperial Wrestling Federation. If those were the only things that mattered here, then it would be me - not you - who would be heading towards Night of the Immortals with a championship opportunity. Not to discredit your skills as a warrior, which are admirable in full - but we both know that when it comes to sheer physical prowess, I am far away your superior.
You taught me the Value of unpredictability in the Iron Maiden, Pandora. You showed me how to capitalize on the chaos, to strike in unexpected ways from unexpected angles, and to play outside the box to keep your opponent off balance and reeling. It was a valuable lesson to watch you fight in that arena, and a valuable lesson to watch you take the prize I so coveted. You earned the title of Iron Maiden, as I was forced to watch from afar."
She chuckles. "Would that I had taken the lesson more to heart, Pandora, else perhaps I would have emerged stronger in the battles that came after. Through pride I stuck to what had been successful in the past as Shae and I fought against the Svartálfar Rowan MacDonnough. Though my usual techniques were not enough to put the creature down, Shae and I emerged victorious... and I thought that this meant that my usual methods were sufficient. This lead to my downfall against Shae this week, where she knew exactly how I'd fight her, and exactly how to counter my every step. I have to hand it to O'Hara... she taught me a master class in humility, and the price of becoming predictable."
She stands, examining the axe briefly before speaking again. "So to you and Shae both? Thank you. You've kicked this complacent juggernaut out of her rut, and helped her recognize a simple truth - adapt to the storm, or be pulled beneath the waves."
She slams the axe downward, burying it in the ground as her smile broadens with ferocious excitement. "You never should have taught me those lessons, Pandora... because now even I don't know what to expect when the bell rings on Monday Night.
Before the Iron Maiden, you described yourself as a Skald. Do you know the full breadth of what that word means? It's far more than singing songs and sharing tales around the fire. It's keeping the memory of an entire people alive, capturing every emotion, every action, every decision and all of its weight. To be a Skald is to be focused on the past, the present and the future with a determination as stalwart as iron and infinite as the sea. But the most notable thing about the Skald? It is not in their destiny to carry the name of glory. It is not in their destiny to be the center of the tale. It is not in their destiny to be remembered nearly as well as the subjects of the songs they sing.
You say you are a Skald? Awesome. I commend you for the honorable path you have chosen! I will be more than happy to start you along your path."
She cracks her knuckles beneath her mailed gauntlets, staring into the camera with ironclad determination. "I hope you're ready for what's coming for you, Pandora. I hope you've battened down the hatches tied down your sails, because a storm is coming for you - and it's going to batter you around that ring like a hurricane's gale, sweep you off your feet like a tidal wave, and strike you down like a bolt of Thor's own lightning... and when it's all over, you will hear nothing but the thunder of thousands of people cheering my name.
Then you will learn what it is to be a Skald, Pandora Freeman - when I beat you on Monday Night, and leave you to sing the song of MY victory, and the mournful lay of your defeat at my hands."
Well howdy there pardner.