The Futhark

Göll stands up, arms himself with a knife, and tiptoes to the entrance. Göll shouts through the door, "State your name and what you want from us!"

A quick response follows, "It's me. Grandpa, open the door before I get stoned to death out here in the ice!"

Göll opens the door, and a sturdy, white-blonde woman with long braided hair, blue sapphire eyes, and thick eyebrows jumps in and embraces Göll.

"Alva, dry yourself off properly. Otherwise, you'll get sick!"

The two talk as if they haven't seen each other for a long time. Suddenly, Alva changes the subject and becomes more serious: "Is Dad okay? Will he ever be able to walk again?"

Göll responds with reassurance, "If the gods are kind, he will walk again someday."

Göll looks thoughtfully at Anton and says, "Alva and I are going to Frijja at the world tree. If you want, you can come with us."

Anton doesn't hesitate long and goes with them. In Anton's memories, he sees a large yew tree spanning a vast clearing. Anton had never seen a tree like this before.

Anton follows the two, and by now the hail has turned to drizzle. They walk to an inconspicuous path leading into the forest. When they arrive at a shady spot, a magical place greets them.

A massive tree overshadows the entire clearing with its leaves, and light occasionally filters through the mystical canopy while fireflies float around in masses. The tree is so old that some branches are as thick as entire tree trunks and so heavy that they have broken off from the main trunk under their own weight. To the left stands a small hut with a shelter for dried herbs. Rune-inscribed monoliths adorn this surreal place, protecting it from evil.

The World Tree lives up to its name, and Anton is in awe. It is truly larger and more majestic than in his memory. Göll and Alva approach the hut and knock on the door. Meanwhile, Anton, like a moth to a flame, has moved toward the tree. He touches the gigantic tree, and numerous runes, strange symbols, and images glow bright green. A mystical wind blows toward Anton, and all the runes on the monoliths shine just as brightly in various shades of green. Suddenly, he sees the roots beneath the earth, their entanglement and countless branches. He is startled, falls backward to the ground, and rubs his eyes.

"What was that?"

Alva and Göll stand in front of him and shout, "HELLO?"

"Your eyes glowed green, and you didn't move for quite a while."

Suddenly, it becomes brighter, and the leaves fall gently from the World Tree. The tree turns brown, and the glowing spots lose their intensity.

Behind Anton, Frijja's trembling voice echoes.

"It has begun. The fall of the World Trees, the first stage of Ragnarök, and a sign of a new world order."

He looks behind him and sees Frijja in her usual ceremonial attire. Even though her eyes are covered by the white garment, tears can be seen washing away the black-and-white paint on her face.

"The twenty-four World Trees have found the twenty-four chosen Futhark and thus sealed their own fate."

Anton notices a rune symbol on the back of his hand and looks at Frijja. She speaks to him.

"The Eihwaz symbol represents confusion, destruction, and weakness."

He looks at her with concern, hoping his curiosity hasn't cursed him with a millennium-old curse.

She continues, "But also strength, reliability, trust, enlightenment, great resilience, ambition, heaven, and earth."

"A powerful rune, which one can only obtain by experiencing both life and death."

Confused, Anton asks Frijja, "How can strength and weakness be equally represented?"

She replies, "They will reveal themselves when the time comes. Now, all twenty-four World Trees have withered, and this is our sign to leave before Ragnarök begins."

Alva asks, "What about Dad? Will he stay here?"

Frijja replies confidently, "Don't worry, we can try to take him with us on a wagon. In an emergency, we have Uncle Thorvik, who can easily carry your father."

Anton asks, "Aren't there any wheelchairs? I can design one to help Herul be independent again."

Alva, excited, says, "A chair on wheels! What a marvelous idea! Why did no one think of this?" With that, she runs off toward the village.

"Can I confide in you, Futhark?" Frijja whispers softly to Anton.

Anton looks at Frijja and sees her serious ice-blue eyes.

"The World Tree has withered, and now all the tribes must flee to new lands. As Futhark, you now have the right to lead the migration and choose a direction."

He thinks for a moment and smiles. "Where do the Goths even want to go, Frijja?"

Frijja replies calmly, "We will soon find out. It's time, the midday sun is shining at full strength, and Jarl Odoacer should be back by now."

Everyone in the village has gathered, collected weapons, equipment, and food. Frijja, Göll, and Anton arrive at the meeting point, where chaotic laughter and many conversations drown out any normal speech. Gerald comes toward them.

"LOOK, ANTON, THAT'S THORISMUND THE RED!"

Frijja goes ahead and talks to Thorismund the Red.

Anton can hardly understand and notices that there are more people in the square than there are villagers. He turns to Gerald and asks, shouting, "WHO ARE ALL THESE PEOPLE?"

Gerald responds, shouting, "THIS IS THE ENTIRE SKIRIAN TRIBE. THEY COME FROM VILLAGES LIKE GNESEN, JEZIRN, LUTBRANDAU, LESLAU, DOBRYZIN, AND OTHER VILLAGES."

Gerald looks past him, and Anton looks behind him. A man has climbed onto a crate and is asking for attention.

He has long red hair with many gray streaks, his eyebrows are red and thick, and his gaze is sharp and slightly threatening. His clothing consists of simple fur, leather, cloth, and some iron armor pieces that protect vulnerable spots like the neck, head, and heart. A longbow is slung across his torso, and a quiver made of expensive red leather adorns his right side. A belt is strapped around his waist, holding four different knives.

"My name is Thorismund Turciling! I am one of the three leaders of this journey and responsible for you Skirians. Alongside me are General Wilhelm of Rugiland and King Bering the Conqueror."

"My friends, family, tribe members, and guests! When I could count twenty-four spears, I won an overwhelming victory against King Vestralp Grizimala the Fearless in the war against the Lemovians and Prussians! It was a weeks-long journey on foot and with equipment over moors, rivers, hills, and forests! In Dramburg, we fought the first battle and defeated the six-thousand-man army with only four thousand! In Stettin, we were finally able to bring our enemies to their knees.

My people! Our journey will not be easy, and our path will be several times longer than my journey from Danzig to Stettin. Let's show the GODS that we can endure this journey! FOR ÓDIN! FOR GOTIEN!"

The excitement was great, and many people were motivated. However, when he ended the speech with the praise of the Goths, there were many others who were less satisfied. As a conquered people, the Skirians are only second-class citizens in the grand scheme of the Gothic King Bering the Conqueror, who aims to conquer Rome first and has a penchant for grandiosity.

"The plan is set. General Wilhelm of Rugiland will go with the Pomeranians and the Goths east into the Sarmatian territories. King Bering the Conqueror will invade Dacia beyond the Carpathians, and my plan is the West. However, a Futhark has emerged among us. His name is Anton from the Lombard tribe, step forward."

Anton steps forward, and both Goths and Skirians alike kneel. His gaze is slightly nervous, and he walks to Thorismund.

"As Futhark, you have the right to determine where our journey will lead."

Odoacer Greuthung steps forward and says desperately,

"My lord, Anton is not a Skirian, but a Lombard! What if he leads us to ruin…"

The temperature drops by several degrees, and Odoacer stands before an angry red lion.

"DO YOU DOUBT ÓDIN? THE TRIBE FOLLOWS THE FUTHARK, AND THAT IS DETERMINED BY THE GODS!"

Odoacer kneels fearfully and says, "I beg for forgiveness, I will never question Wóden again!"

A horn sounds and echoes in the sky, and the largest caravan ever seen, of ten thousand Skirians, begins a long journey. Equipped with banners on long spears, the Skirians form the end of a long caravan. Eighteen thousand Goths and twelve thousand Pomeranians join during this arduous journey. A total of forty thousand people wander into unknown lands.

====================

Ódin and Wòden are the same God.

the many Tribes pronounce the gods differently

The Goths say Odin

The Skirians say Wòden