“I am not afraid,” replied Gunnar stubbornly. “I simply do not know you.”
The woman laughed. “Yes, you do,” she said. “Gunnar, your foster mother and your mother have been teaching you about me since you were old enough to grasp the words.”
Gunnar drew his eyebrows together in youthful confusion and then he looked at her in shock. “Freyja?” he managed and felt his knees shake.
“Of course, young Gunnar. Now come and dip your hand in the stream. Does it not pain you?”
“It does,” he murmured and willed his legs to move until he stood on the opposite edge of the stream. Freyja swept her arm towards the swift-running water. Carefully, Gunnar lay down on his belly in the grass and lowered his arm until his injured hand broke the surface of the water. He gasped, first at the cold, and then as he felt the terrible pain recede, until it was entirely gone.
“Better?” asked Freyja.
“Better,” said Gunnar in wonder, and then remembered his manners. “Thank you, High Lady.”
“Are you healed, little warrior?” asked Freyja, her eyes twinkling but sharp.
“Yes, lady…and no,” he replied, suddenly frowning. “I mean, my body is healed and for that I thank you. I cannot be a good warrior with only one hand. But my heart…High Lady, my heart still hurts terribly.”
“As for the first,” said Freyja, “my kinsman Tyr is a great warrior, despite only having the one hand. And as for the second…well, young Gunnar, that is your burden to carry for a time.”
“Forgive me, lady, I had forgotten about Tyr. But what do you mean,” Gunnar said, frowning, “about a burden to carry?”
“That is a more complex matter, Gunnar. You love Sif, do you not?”
Gunnar blushed. “Yes, lady.”
“And you love your brother?”
Gunnar shrugged. “Of course. He is my brother.”
Freyja locked eyes with him. “And if a day came when you had to save one or the other, what would you do?”
Gunnar felt a terrible pain in his stomach, as if all of his muscles had locked up. This was an impossible choice! He swallowed. Sif was the subject of his thoughts, every single day. But life without Hakon could not be imagined.
Finally, his head buzzing, he replied, “I don’t know, High Lady.”
“What if I told you that there was a way that you could save them both?” said the goddess.
Gunnar’s eyes widened. “Then that would be my choice.”
Freyja stood up, her feet still in the cold stream, and looked down at Gunnar. He sat up with his legs underneath him. “Gunnar, here is what you maychoose,” she said. “Sif has marked you with theeihwazrune. It is my rune, the love rune. If you keep your heart devoted to Sif, the rune on your hand will grow in power with each year.”
“But Sif loves Hakon, just as he loves her!”
“I did not say it would be easy, Gunnar,” replied Freyja gently, “nor did I say that she would return your love. She will not. You are correct; she loves your brother. However, there will come a time when Sif and Hakon are in terrible danger. If you have kept your heart true to Sif, year after year, that rune will have the power to save all of your lives.”
“But how will I know when that will be?” asked Gunnar, in mixed hope and despair.
“You will know, Gunnar,” said Freyja, with the kindest and most loving of smiles.
“Then I will wait,” swore Gunnar stubbornly. “Iwillsave them.”
Freyja strode across the stream, bent down, and gave Gunnar a soft kiss on his forehead. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was lying in his bed. He opened his palm and looked at the rune in wonder.
“I will carry Sif in my heart but never say a word,” he murmured. “I will nurture the strength I need tosave the people I love the most. I promise you both. When the time comes, I will be ready.”
***
Gotland
