The elk collapsed gracefully as the arrow entered its brain, killing it instantly. The soft, leaf-covered ground of the forest embraced the animal, padding its fall. For a long moment, there was no sound except for the chirping of the birds living in the high branches.

“Well done my boy!” Brack exclaimed, walking over to give his son a fatherly pat on the back. “We’ve been searching for the bastard long enough, aye?” Brack gazed up proudly, “Isn’t that right Bryan?”

Bryan stared at the elk with a small smile on his lips. But Brack saw a hint of sorrow in his eyes, nonetheless.

Bryan was very tall, even compared to the average male Drugrundyr, and as strong. His horns were ivory, and his eyes and hair were chestnut brown. He had a kind face that women often found endearing.

“Yes, it was worth the wait.” Bryan smiled warmly at his father and began to unstring his bow. Brack walked over to the dead elk and knelt to view it. He saw that the shot had landed directly through its eye. A perfect shot.

Brack turned around quickly to relay the victory. His words stopped dead in his throat as he saw his son. Bryan was turned away from him, head down and rubbing his eyes slowly. Brack knew the sight for what it was and turned silently back to the animal. As he gazed upon the elk’s lifeless body, he perhaps saw it for what it was also.

Brack pulled the arrow out of the elk’s eye and stood up. He coughed loudly and spoke without turning around. “I think the ability to carry this fellow alone is beyond me. I will start lifting its head and you will start with its legs. Bryan brushed past him and hefted the beast from the rear.

“Ough.” Bryan feigned a struggle. “By the time we get to camp I may have to carry you as well, you old fart.”

“Charming young lad, they always did say.”

They laughed together and carried the elk back to their encampment.

Once they reached camp, they threw the elk in front of the unlit fire, drained, and slumped onto one of the logs.

“Gee. We have time to cook that?” Trout spoke in a heavy commoner accent. A simple Drugrundyr man, Trout’s horns were short and stubby, mimicking his stature. He walked over to the elk and knelt to inspect it.

“We don’t have to cook it all Trout, do we.” Robin smiled at Bryan and sat across from him. Her red hair was cut short, and her pleasantly plump face was supplemented by two great white horns. “We still have some daylight left; best to start now while we can see the thing.”

“Aye.” Trout replied glumly. He began to skin the corpse with his belt knife.

“So, can I assume the hunt went well?” Robin asked jovially.

“Perhaps they were almost killed by this beast, hm? A good hunt they would not have had in that case.” Miru spoke with pursed lips and a slight southwestern accent, revealing her Aklatanian origins. She was a human and had flowing black hair that framed her small, pale face.

“It was a good hunt,” Bryan said, putting an end to the speculation. “Where is Cob, do you know?”

“He has gone… to fetch some water” Gunnar spoke in between strokes as he sharpened his Greatsword. His eyes were a light grey and his skin and hair a stark white. His hair was tied back efficiently by a leather strap.

The camp was rudimentary at best, consisting of several logs surrounding a small pile of firewood. Scattered haphazardly around the clearing where some weapons and supplies that had been dumped upon arrival. Cob almost tripped over someone’s blanket as he entered, managing to spill a portion of his bucket in the process.

“Ha! You’re back, and with a mighty prize I see.” Cob placed the bucket gently next to the firewood and sat next to Robin.

“They had a good hunt, obviously.” Robin glanced sourly at Miru, who was preoccupied with cleaning her nails with a knife. “And now we have a proper feast to prepare for nightfall.”

“A good end to a good day.” Cob smiled and stroked his beard.

“The day’s not over yet my friend,” Brack spoke, not ungently. “We must end our last proper hunt together with more than just full bellies. We should… umm. Hm, what should we do?”

“Play Groturn.” Trout said absentmindedly as he worked.

“You forgot the board you idiot, or did you forget that too?” Robin replied chidingly.

“We could tell tales,” Cob offered. “Whether they be tall or short is up for the rest to decide.”

“I’d be up for that,” Bryan said, looking around eagerly.

“Perhaps if there was a competitive structure, we would be encouraged to tell our best, no?” Miru directed the question towards Brack. “If the reward was good enough, I would be pleasurable to join.”

Most of the camp sniggered at the mistake, but Brack just nodded thoughtfully. “I will judge them, and whoever wins will get this.” He reached into his tunic and brought out an elaborately crafted dagger. It was hiltless, gilt in gold and covered with precious gems. The dagger’s blade was sheathed in leather. After several moments of dramatic effect, Brack pulled off the sheath so that all could view the intricate engravings on the steel. The steel was carved with a central image of a many scaled snake winding up the length of the blade. The snake was carved in such detail as to almost appear real, moving with the sunlight reflected on the steel.

Everyone in the camp was enraptured with the object. Even Gunnar had set down his sharpening stone and was staring wholeheartedly at the weapon.

Brack sheathed the dagger and returned it to his tunic. Grinning, he asked who would like to go first.

“Me!” Robin shouted a split second before anyone else mustered an answer.

“Ok Robin, you may begin.”

Robin cleared her throat and began her tale.

**********

One day, there were three brothers travelling along a narrow valley pass. One brother, the oldest, had dark, curled horns. This brother was quite miserly and shrewd but had a solid grasp of common sense. He walked at the back of the group and watched out for the safety of his two other siblings.

The second eldest brother had short, thin horns. He was gifted in the ability to perceive abstract concepts and had a perfect memory but was not personable. He was also as thin and frail as a wee lass. This brother walked in the middle of the group, surrounded and protected from harm.

Now, the youngest brother was a big fellow, with long white horns that could pin a hog clean through. This brother was strong and brave, but a bit simple in the head. He walked at the front of the group, a battle-axe in hand and a determined glare plastered across his face.

The brothers walked out of the valley and into a vast grassy field. Here they found their first obstacle, a great big Ox laying on top of the grass. The Ox was easily large enough to fit all three brothers into its stomach, to give some perspective.

As the brothers approached, the Ox bellowed at the top of its lungs, “Pleeeeease! Oh goodness please help me, fellow travellers! I have fallen over and just cannot find the strength to stand. Will you help me to find my feet?”

The brothers regarded the Ox, and each made their decisions in turn. The eldest gazed upon the creature with squinted eyes, “The beast has nothing to give us. Why should we waste our energy in helping it up?”

The second licked his lips and regarded the creature meekly, “What if it is wild and wishes us harm? Why should we risk our necks for the animal?”

The youngest brother did not speak, he simply walked up to the creature and began to push. The other brothers scorned him and advised caution, but the youngest struggled on. Slowly but surely, he lifted the great Ox upright.

Once the Ox was standing it turned to face the brothers. As it did so, the animal morphed into a graceful woman draped in blue cloth. The woman’s voice was music, and her smile was an arrow that pierced the heart. “You have proven yourself, Dru.”

The woman touched the youngest brother, and both were consumed in a bright blue glow that engulfed them. As it faded only the two others remained.

The brothers walked on. They passed through the field and into a fetid swamp, scattered with the occasional gnarled tree. Here they found their second obstacle, a tall stone tower that was somehow standing in the muck of the swamp. At the top of this tower was a wooden platform on which an old crone stood, cackling and waving her arms in excitement. Before the old crone was a great black cauldron filled with a bubbling broth. Levitating over the cauldron was a small child who cried, “Pleeease! Will somebody save me from this old crone! I will surely perish soon, for she is hungry!”

The two brothers regarded the scene and made their decisions in turn. The eldest crossed his arms grimly, “We must pray for the poor child and move on. We cannot help her.” The second brother regarded the scene with a rapid gaze. He climbed up one of the trees and cobbled together a contraption using his own shoe and some tree branches. With this contraption, he launched himself up to the top of the tower and caught the girl. He kicked one of the cauldrons legs, causing it to spill its contents, which swept the old crone off of the tower and to her demise. Using his contraption, he climbed safely down the tower with the child. Once he reached the ground and let go of the child, it transformed into the beautiful woman draped in blue cloth. She said, “You have proven yourself, Sig.”

When she touched the second brother they were engulfed in blue light. After it faded only the eldest brother remained.

The brother walked on. After a time, he reached a cliff. On this cliff were two things, a stairwell leading far down to a shining golden city, impossible in its splendour. Next to this stairwell stood the woman draped in blue.

The woman spoke to the last brother, “You have two choices child. You can live a life of endless pleasure and contentment.” She gestured to the stairwell leading to the golden city. “Or you can meet your brothers again.” She gestured to the abyss of the cliff edge.

The brother regarded the scene. After a short period of deliberation, he began to run for the empty cliff edge. Before he could leap to his doom, the woman stopped him. She smiled at the last brother. “You have passed, Frey.” She embraced him and they were engulfed in light.

So goes the myth of the brothers Frey, Sig, and Dru.