The Singing Stones

Once the fire was built and the meat was roasting, Jon cleared an area of snow and plopped down on the ground, exhausted. He had been hunting for at least 5 hours and the sun was sitting high in the sky. "Sh*t it must be nearly noon by now, I should be getting ready to leave after this BBQ!" His stomach growled as the meat finished roasting.

Jon bit into the deliciously rich and savory venison he harvested and immediately he could feel the strength returning to his body, his fingers beginning to regain feeling. He was overjoyed with his kill.

"There is enough meat here to feed us for months if we are careful." Jon was deep in thought. As soon as he finished eating, he snuffed out the fire and packed the meat to start the long trek home. As he was walking the trail he could swear he heard a low, rumbling voice.

He froze, and turned his head to listen. It was definitely a human voice, but what it was saying was beyond him. As he walked towards his home, the voice grew louder and louder, calling to him by name to break from the path, and beckoning him to the woods. "Jon Berskaggr come through the woods and meet your destiny!" A voice cracked at him like thunder, electricity coursing through his body.

Jon ran into the woods as fast as he could, for some reason he knew this was the God of Gods, Woden. As he ran, the snow capped evergreens were just blurs of color shifting by. Jon Berskaggr had never ran so fast in his life.

Soon he came to the mouth of a cave, surprisingly inside the cave was even colder than the air itself. Just inside the cave were big stones, standing perfectly upright, probably no more than 4 feet high and a foot thick at the very least.

The 7 stones were grey and smooth, actually featureless and unremarkable, except for a perfectly circular hole the size of a fist through the center of each one. Suddenly a fierce wind whipped up from the back of the cave, almost as if someone were breathing. The ferocious wind whipped through Jon and almost froze him to the spot where he stood.

As soon as he felt the wind, he heard a beautiful sound, it was like beautiful music coming from the stones inside the cave. Somehow the wind coming through holes in the stones all made a different noise, rhythmic like music.

The music he heard was suddenly all around him, not too loudly, but then a voice started speaking directly to him, always as a cold whisper in his ears. "Jon Berskaggr, to reach your destiny, you must go far into the snowy Svey mountains and find a sacred tome. This book is mine, filled with knowledge of a time before men walked the earth, in a language none can comprehend. Find me my tome and you shall have the knowledge of a single page, however in doing this, you shall be the Champion of Woden, God of Gods!"

With that, the wind died down. Jon was joyous in hearing these words. The Northmen had not heard from the old Gods in a millennia, let alone becoming a Champion of a God and here, in this ancient place, Jon was given a chance to lay the foundation for his fame and glory.

"Woden, I will not disappoint you! I will be your Champion and bring glory to your name!" Jon said, as he felt as if electricity were flowing through his blood, he knew this as the 'kiss of the Gods' a small blessing of restorative energies upon him.

He waited for the voice to say something, anything, but the cave was silent besides the slow drip of water somewhere in the dark.

Jon excitedly ran the entire way home, eager to tell his mother and sisters what had happened to him this day. As soon as he got home he called for his family and ran into his house, warmth returning to his face immediately. "Mother, sisters, look at what I have brought you! It is a whole beast, we are saved!"

The youngest of his sisters, Hilda, only of age 6, ran up to him and jumped into his arms, excited to try the venison he had on his back. "Brother, you were successful this time!" She said, eyeing the deer hungrily, almost drooling on his shoulder. His mother beckoned him to the back room, by the fire so he hurried to her.

"My what a large animal that must have been, I trust you made a clean kill. How is the trail? I hope it wasn't too much of a trial for you this morning." Lagertha, his mother, cooed to him in a soft voice. "No, quite the opposite, I feel great, the meat is good and tender, the ice is starting to thaw and the trail is cut and has a clear path." Jon replied, as he put his pack on the dark wooden table.