Tyr reached the practice field right behind Thor, who greeted Tyr and looked as though he suffered no ill effects from all the ale he drank.

“Better pick up the pace Tyr, or we will miss the beginning of the fight.”

“I imagine it will be a sight to behold.”

Tyr followed Thor and soon they were on a hill over the practice fields.

“Here they come.” Thor said excitedly.

Tyr looked and saw one shambling group of einherjar, perhaps 200 strong, move on one side of the field, then another in the same way on the other end.

Then, a few from each group began to run towards the center of the field, then a few others, then the whole masses. As one of those who started running later caught up with the first runner ahead of them, he took his spear and stabbed the runner in the back and, as the runner fell, walked over his body to attack the next person. From there, the scene devolved to a chaotic brawl. Anyone who was in range of another’s weapon was their enemy. Archers fired an arrow into those around them while dodging those who came close to slash at them with swords and when they couldn’t dodge they fought with swords and knives of their own. Those with armor greater than the wool gambesons would be more reckless, slaughtering the gambeson wielders first and avoiding those who also wore armor unless it was necessary. Tyr looked at Thor and was surprised to see that Thor was watching this with enthusiasm, which many other near him seemed to share. Tyr looked at the field again and watched it till the end.

The victor was an einherjar decked out in full regalia who then marched off the field with his hand above his head in victory, and most of the watching Aesir joined him. As the einherjar left, Tyr saw that two more groups of einherjar were massing on the sides as the Valkyries cleared the field of the bodies.

“There are more battles to come?” Tyr asked.

“Of course.” Was Thor’s reply. “There are nine battles a day. Eight have the large groups as you have seen, then one with the victors of those eight fighting one another. Of course, the einherjar are so numerous that they cannot all fight in one day so it may be a month or more before they will participate, but we still can witness these fights every day.”

“Excuse me Thor, I think I will get something to drink.”

Tyr then got up and located a well of water, from which he got a bucket and drank some before pouring the rest on his head. Just then Odin came up to him. Odin was no longer in armor, instead wearing a polished leather jerkin under a huge cloak that he could have wrapped himself up in.

“Greetings Tyr, why are you not at the fight?”

“The fight made my throat parched so I decided to get a drink than watch the next one.”

“I would not have thought you one to feel terror at the sight of violence.”

“It was not terror that made my throat parch.”

“Well, what was it then? Speak honestly Tyr I welcome it.”

No, you won’t.

“Are…are you truly alright with how the einherjar of that field are now?”

“What do you mean? They are more powerful than any mortal of all the realms.”

“Yet were I one to bet I would sooner believe that any mortal they fought would soundly beat them, almost with ease.”

Odin stared at Tyr in shock for a moment, then gestured for him to continue.

“Odin, their combat style was just terrible. The shields were rarely used and as such were more of an encumbrance than a benefit, the spear jabs were obvious, the archers would miss hitting even the large mass they aimed for and their sword skill…” Tyr shuddered at what he remembered. “A child could teach them to do better.”

“I suppose for a warrior like yourself they may not seem up to par, but they will do fine. They are part of my army for Ragnarök.”

“That was another thing my lord, they had no sense of comradery out there, killing those whom they had entered the field with before they ever made it to the center. I’m sorry if I overstep my boundary in saying this, my king, but if Ragnarök was tomorrow, Asgard would lose.”

Odin seemed to incline his head as though he had been listening to what Tyr said, then he walked forward and spoke to Tyr in a soft voice.

“You’re right Tyr, you do overstep your boundary. Have you even listened to yourself speak? You sound like as if there are going to be a winning side in Ragnarök. There won’t be; more lives will be lost in that final battle than even you know, for it will involve all the realms.”

“Including those beyond the nine.”

“How do you…Thoth. That is why I don’t remember seeing you in the nine realms during your journey. Yes, even those realms and we will side with many strange characters. But ultimately, too many of us will die.”

“What about the mortals?”

“What about them?”

“Is it not our duty to guard them? Do not their chances of surviving Ragnarök count as well? Is it not for them we fight with the Jotunar and amass the einherjar?”

Odin stared a Tyr, his eye becoming softer than it was before.

“It is indeed our duty to guide and help our mortal companions, but what good is it to force the einherjar, who are mortals we guided here, to train for a battle they know they will lose? Let them come here for the last festivity, to eat and drink and wench for a time before the end.”

“I do understand a little as to what you wish Odin, but I must also point out that many of these einherjar will have kin among the living mortals when Ragnarök comes, and those mortals may live or die by their skill. If nothing else, the einherjar should at least be able to learn how to fight as an army and not some lone weapon wielder suffering from a hangover.”

“Most of them were suffering from a hangover, and I must honestly say that while I know you mean well, the einherjars ability to work together will not change the outcome of a fight. Indeed, let us not forget that their very name means ‘lone warrior’.”

“I am afraid I feel too strongly about this your majesty, and as such I would like to ask a favor of sorts: give me some of the einherjar to learn under me how to be a more organized force and allow one battle where it is group upon group. After which, the victorious group can fight as they are doing so now, as well as I may finally quiet this distress I feel about their training.”

Odin at first looked like he was going to say no, then paused for moment before speaking.

“You seem rather strongly about this Tyr, yet I as once who knows the fate of so many see it as futile. Yet, I think that an amended version of your request may be possible if you are willing to make a wager on the outcome.”

“How do you mean?”

“You seem certain that the einherjar would be better than they are if they fight together. I will choose 100 einherjar of those who have been defeated today, and you will train them as you see fit. Upon one month’s time, they will do battle with the usual number of opponents they would face. Should your group emerge victorious, you will have won the wager and I will reward each of your einherjar the same amount as they would have one if they had fought alone. However, if I win, you must do me four favors without fail.”

“Are you going to ask me to return my throne to Forseti?”

“No, the favors will be something different.”

Tyr hesitated, knowing that as the one who thought of strategy Odin was bound to have some tricks up his sleeve to ensure he would win, but Tyr was also desiring to wipe the scene from the “battle” out of his head.

“You work to your favor my king, but very well. May the best man win, and the loser give him a run for his gold.”

Odin laughed then went to go pick out the einherjar. As Odin walked away, Tyr saw two people, the quiet couple from the feast before, walk up to the well.

“Hail friends.” Tyr greeted with a smile.

The woman raised her eyes, showing then to a pair emerald greens that had wings within them.

“Hail Tyr of the Aesir. I hope you fare well today.” The woman said.

She’s lying.

“And I hope you are well also Lady Freya. Are you here to watch the display?”

“That barbarism? we would not waste time with filth.” The man spoke up. He had the same brunette hair as Freya, which convinced Tyr that he must be Freyr.

“I suppose you enjoy the combat?” Freyr spoke with scorn.

“I would not think of calling drunken nightmare combat Lord Freyr. A large gathering of mortal children has shown more skill. But I have no doubt they could be better, and perhaps even a bit less savage, if they learned how to work together properly. Lady Freya, those you take to Folkvangr are undoubtedly the more skilled of those the Valkyries bring.”

“They…they are not required to train. Rather, it is akin to a reversal here, with the women learning to fight and the men guarding the borders and serving the Valkyrie.”

“Is that so?” Tyr said in mild surprise. “Well, I seem to recall some mortal saying that turnabout is fair play. No doubt your Valkyries are as skilled as they are beautiful.”

“They are…”

“What do you want Tyr?” Freyr asked impatiently. Tyr stared at Freyr for a moment.

“Perhaps I should ask what do you want Freyr. I thought my greeting was polite, but it appears that you desire conflict.”

Freyr’s sword started to rise from its sheath, then it returned and Freyr walked away.

“I must ask for you to forgive Freyr, Tyr. You see he has fallen in love with a giantess and has run into some difficulties winning her hand. When Loki mocked him for this failure in love, Freyr began to lash out at the men around him.”

Freya gave a slight nod and then flew to where Freyr was.

I wonder if I can do that.

Tyr walked a little distance away, closed his eyes and then began to concentrate on lifting himself without moving. He felt himself becoming lighter, and when he opened his eyes found that he was hovering over the ground about the height that his knees had been. Keeping his excitement down lest he lose what little control he had, Tyr began to slowly lean in various directions to see if he would move that way. Unfortunately, Tyr found that he merely hovered in place no matter how he moved his body, never going forwards, backwards, to the side, or even up regardless of what he did while hovering. Lowering himself to the ground, Tyr was slightly dejected. Then, a thought crossed his mind about a possibility. Bending his knees, he brought his concentration into play when he pushed off the ground, and found that he had floated higher than before, though the same issues arose while hovering in the air.

So, I can hover in the air without any movement, and the height can be controlled by the amount of force I lift off with though none after. Perhaps if I control the direction of the launch it may allow for some directional movement?

Just then, Tyr heard a cough behind him. Turning, he saw Hermod looking up at him.

“How long have you been there?”

“Since you floated down the first time. Odin has picked the einherjar for you.”

Sheepishly, Tyr returned to the ground and followed Hermod.