@theblindexile-blog / theblindexile-blog.tumblr.com
“I know you.” He knew him by the feel of his Seidr. By the sound of his footfalls far too light on the earth. There was no mistaking one of his brothers...nor could there ever be. The feeling of the Sons of Odin was as distinct and clear in the air as the scent of rain...at least to a man like him, who’d spent his whole life without sight, “...Hello brother.”
Ragnar frowned as he listened to him. What he said matched what he had guessed, but it still settled uneasily on his stomach. “My name is Ragnar - Lothbrok - I am on my way to the village of Kattegat if you wish to accompany me.”
Ragnar Lothbrok. A name that told him little, though he could likely search for the name. He was a God, after all, something beyond what most mortals could comprehend. The offer of company was met with a smile, sure steps forwards with feet in thin cloth shoes. Enough to let him feel the earth beneath his feet, or so it would seem to a mortal. He was more sure of his steps than most, “I thank you for your offer, Ragnar. I would take you at your word as well. It would be kind of you.”
Ragnar shifted the furs of his cloak a little and looked up at the stranger who stood off to the side of the path. Blind, and dressed like a beggar or weary traveler, but his face was fair, too fair, and young. It did not seem like he had lived like this long. Perhaps he had lost his sight in battle? “Greetings.” Ragnar answered, his voice quiet, reserved, testing the waters.
By the sound of him, he was reserved...ah, yes. He did look less human than likely he should, but he let his body bend further, playing ever the part of the weary one, worn from battle, “...I know not your voice, but I apologize for being in your path. I am simply...resting. At least before I travel further still.” The sense of this mortal was strange to him...powerful in its own way. How he wished he had his bow, “I am Höðr...and I remember not the name of my father. Who speaks, may I ask?”
OutofDeath;;
I dunno if many of you are still paying attention to/following this blog, but if you are, HI I’M BACK AND I WANT TO GET ACTIVE ON HODR AGAIN!
Viking boat in Næroyfjord, Norway (by VVincze).
Marvel`s Asgard concept (from Thor movies)
I must control my anger, or I won’t control my power
I must control my rage or lose the ability to plan
I must control my fury or let slip all that I’ve sought
His throat caught, the feeling of the other man moving through the forest where Hodr had hidden far too clear to be mistaken. Odin's presence in the Seidr as well. Even the blind needed a way to see. Backing up, the blind God felt his back hit a tree, fear causing panic to bring his heart to frantic paces; Hummingbird wings beating within his chest. "Father..."
She could never hate him—hurt yes, but hate…she could never hate her child. Her hate was saved for the one whose hand lead to the action of her son’s death. But still the mention of Bladr tore at her heart, threatening to reopen wounds that still healed. Gentle fingers pressed to his lips hushing him. She pushed away strands of hair from eyes that would not see.
”I know you are, Hodr—I know.” Her voice held the pain that matched his, and she aloud warmth of her magic to move through him, doing her best to heal his pain. “I could never hate you Hodr, you are my son, the same as Baldr. I know you never meant to—” she could bring herself to give voice to his actions. "I know."
He felt his breath coming in small and soft. Each word of hers...He could hear. Even with her fingers keeping his lips still, even with the gentle touches....Oh, he knew that there was still pain. That he could never be quite the same to her as he'd once been. He missed being a favored son...being loved, instead of feared and reviled. Hated for something that....He'd not done at all. Her seidr moved through him, a gentle, soothing feeling that began to seal the bleeding lacerations from the battle. The chill still bit at him, and with his own strength, he pulled his cloak a bit tighter around him, "...You can know all you like...But knowing, mother? It does not change your pain."
Scott Cunningham (via natural-magics)blog (via kneel-archive)
『 THIS STORY
IS FAR LESS
{ THAN A }
FAIRY-TALE 』
mythology meme: [2/4] locations
↳ niflheim
As the Norse realm of ice and cold, Niflheim had two native species: the Niflungar and the Hrímthursar. Being one of the two primordial realms, Niflheim played a large part in the creation of all things when its nine rivers of ice mixed with Muspelheim’s nine rivers of fire and created water. Later, Niflheim became the abode of Loki’s daughter Hel and the afterlife realm for those who did not die an honourable death in battle.
In Hella’s hall, I hold the toast, horn in hand, give health to all! Sink by the fire, seeking comfort: Niflheim’s ice is a knife in my heart, in Hella’s hall. Hope is not mine: creeping Despair, a crony unwelcome, beams from his bench, baleful and sour, raises his hand to a wretched man, swears brotherhood, swoons at my knee, in Hella’s hall. Our hostess sits, Loki’s daughter, lours at her guests, the waifs and wanderers, the withered dead. She calls forth the feast, feeds well the ghostly hearth-sharers: the hobbling aged, the feeble sick; succours the coward, shelters the shamed and shabby outcast.
In Hella’s hall, the honour-seat, before the blaze, belongs to one of the highest birth. He brings to all both joy and dread, joins, in one full draught, the love and life, and the loss, of what we might have been, in brighter days. He sings aloud; his lady weeps, when her hand he raises; his laughter lifts the lonely and forsworn; his wisdom soothes the wild and enraged; and to a blind brother, his beauty gives sight.
From blood and bale, from Baldur’s side, amidst all the murdered, the mistletoe grows in Hella’s hall…
mythology meme: [4/4] locations
↳ valhalla
In Norse mythology, Valhalla is the place where the souls of those who die in battle are gathered to await Ragnarök, the end of the world. Among them are all sorts of warriors, from rulers to simple footsoldiers, and collectively they are known as the einherjar. There are several mythological creatures who live in Valhalla as well, such as the goat Heiðrún, who produces mead for the einherjar, and the stag Sæhrímnir, who is resurrected every night to provide sustenance for the einherjar.
It had not been his fault, not truly, and she knew that. She always had, but that did not brush away the pain of the fact that it was he who brought the killing blow to her son. Her true son, her only son. While every child Odin brought to their home Frigg thought as her’s, she knew none of them truly were. And yet despite the pain and loss she felt, she knew it would do no further good to allow them to suffer and waste away. They were here children, it was she who had raised them, taught them the lesson that made them who they were now.
And of course, he still called her mother. And so she came when called, despite the fact that it brought no ease to her heart. It was a gentle hand the took the man’s face as she knelt beside him in the fresh falling snow. "I am here—" Her was soft and gentle, but it was the pain she could not hide in the gaze she looked upon him with.
He could not see her gaze, and for that, he was glad. The boy knew that he was not truly the son of Frigga, and would never hope for such kindness as this. The feeling of her fingers gracing his face was like a razor in itself, knowing that she was here...but for what purpose, he could not know. Her voice nearly brought blinded, milky eyes to tears, the droplets crystallizing on his cheeks, blood slowly trailing across it to re-warm the paths, that more might fall. How was he to speak to her? How was he to admit that this was his fault?
"You must hate me...but I am sorry, mother..." His words were broken, fragmented by a heart lost. He'd been so far removed from his father and family, so distant from his home, from anything familiar. His head was still in tact, mind still whole, but how was he to make ammends? "Please...Help me...Baldr was my brother...I loved him dear, and did not know what Loki's hand led me to do..Please do not leave me in pain..." It was pleading, a weak gasp for relief, even momentary. Anything...anything but this.
He did not know what had possessed him to do this. What had brought him to believe that it would be a wise idea...or why he had believed that he could keep pace with the warriors he'd taken to staying with. Since his death, and self-imposed new life on Midgard, he'd found himself intrigued by the people here. He'd trained to fight, and eventually found himself going with them, learning how to fight. It was because of what Hodr supposed was his own foolishness that he was now injured, bleeding from his head, and likely from his leg if the feeling was indicative of anything.
And he had no ability to call upon the seidr to save him. He was not a healer.
Pain ripped through the blind God as he pulled himself aside, knowing that neither wound was actually fatal, but if he could not get them to cease bleeding, they would not leave him in a good state. With the air so cold, winter snows beating his fair skin like small pellets of sand, the young man began to wonder...Began to wish and hope...and in his fear, called on the one person he feared finding him the most, "Mother...." If any time he needed her....he wanted her now.
