Head of the Dragon: Part III

by Cooper Heilmann, staff writer


Link to Part II: http://sturgisstormwatch.blogspot.com/2012/03/head-of-dragon-part-ii.html

Eric walked down the path to the smithy, where he worked with Asvald, the village blacksmith.  It was a dark day, and the clouds hung low in the sky.  Smoke rose from the chimneys of the huts.  It was an unusually cold day, so Eric wore furs and leather to keep warm.  Odin’s totem stood in the center of the village square.  It was a carved pole of wood that depicted Odin wearing a deer skull mask and two ravens on his shoulders.  In times of need, the village would gather around it and ask Odin for the wisdom to fix their problem.
The steady ringing of steel resonated from the blacksmith’s shop as always.  The past few days seemed to have gone by very slowly.  Eric couldn’t wait for his sixteenth birthday.  It was then that he would receive his first weapon.  Eric had practiced with many swords before, and he was a fine sword fighter.  However, he wasn’t as skilled as he would have liked—not as good as his father.  He loved nothing more than to listen to all the tales of heroes that slew frost giants in the north, or blessed by Thor, the god of thunder and war.  One of his favorite stories was Beowulf and Grendel.  When he was little, he always wanted to be Beowulf.  He would spend hours pretending to be strong heroes that would vanquish monsters with their bare hands.
 Eric knocked on the door of the blacksmith once, but there was no answer.  He just stepped in.
Asvald was hammering an axe into shape when Eric came in.  He looked up from his work and greeted him.
“Eric, how good of you to come.  Are you ready to get started?” Asvald asked.
“Sure,” Eric replied.
“That’s my boy!” Asvald said.  “Get those young muscles of yours pumping!”  He went about his daily job of pumping the bellows and refueling the fire.
Eric finished his work late.  The moon was shrouded by the clouds, and the lights were out inside the houses.  He was about to head back home when he heard something behind him.  He froze in his tracks and slowly turned around.  There, crouching behind him was the dark shape of a wolf.  It’s ragged silver fur glistened in the moonlight and its amber yellow eyes glared at him.  Eric looked around for something to fend it off with.  He had dealt with wolves before and he knew how dangerous they were.  They used to kill the village’s sheep and chickens.  However, this one seemed angry.  Its eyes were hungry for him.
The door of the smithy was only a few paces away.  If he moved, the wolf could pounce.  He was about to wait it out when the wolf suddenly dashed towards him.  He only just had time to doge the beast as it leaped at him.  He stumbled and backed up to the smithy door.  The wolf rolled over and charged him again.  Eric grabbed the torch by the door and threw it at the wolf.  He hit his target, but the wolf shrugged it off.  It leaped straight at him.  He rolled out of the way and picked up the nearest object: a hammer.
    Eric brandished the hammer and waved it in the air, trying to scare the wolf away.  Just then, another wolf appeared behind him.  The first wolf leaped at him.  Eric’s hammer struck the wolf and the the beast hit the wall of the smithy.  The second one tackled him to the ground, and he kicked it off him.  It charged him again, and he spun around and hit it in the shoulder.  The wolf collapsed on the ground with a whimper.  Eric ran for his house, the hammer still in his hand.  He could hear the howls of more wolves coming for him.  He knew he was in trouble.
Three wolves were behind him, sprinting after him at an incredible speed.  Eric ran as fast as his powerful legs could carry him.  He started yelling, trying to spread the alarm.  The wolves were almost upon him, and he knew no one would help him now.  A sudden surge of bravery hit him.  He stopped in his tracks and swerved around.  Just as a wolf leaped at him, he swiped it out of the air with the hammer.  It flew sideways into the wall of a hut and rolled on the ground, whimpering.  The other two wolves kept coming.
Eric ran to the nearest hut and ran up the wall.  He grabbed the thatch roof and hoisted himself up just before the wolf’s jaws snapped shut by his heel.  The wolves jumped and snapped at him while he regained his breath.  He looked around him.  He could see more wolves running into the village from the forest.  All of a sudden, they stopped and backed up.  They ran at the wall as if trying to scale it.  Eric panicked for a second, but his battle instincts took over.
He ran and jumped off the roof of the hut, his hammer raised above his head.  He yelled a war cry and smashed down on a running wolf.  He stood up to face the other wolf, but it backed away in fear.  Behind him, he could see half a dozen warriors from the village emerge from the huts with torches and swords.  A dead wolf lay at his uncle Bjorn’s foot.  The last wolf retreated, and was joined by three more.  Eric stood, breathing heavily, and watched them dash back into the darkness of the forest.