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Varjo


Chapter I
here was complete darkness, not a single sound but a soft hum. A
spark showed at my weak eyes, blinding me. I fell into the darkness,
falling deeper into a pit. Suddenly there were swords clashing, still
blinded. I was guided by my senses. I began to feel the hard ground. There I was,
lying in the fire being unburnt. A sharp smell of blood and hot iron. Screams of death
and triumph overwhelmed my ears. Men crying for they saw their deaths coming.
Monstrous unknown screams arose, foreseeing that death had come. A black shape
appeared in front of my weakened eyes. I could not see who or what was there. It
offered me his hand. I took it, and my legs began waking, so I could stand up, with a
surprising force. It pulled me up, almost ripping my useless arm off. There it was the
unknown aide to me. The shadow vanished in a blink. There I saw nothing but
darkness once again. I heard a scream and instinctively turned around. A white
horse imbrued in blood passed through me like an elfish arrow. I closed my eyes and
waited for the hit. But I felt nothing but a ticklish touch at my solar plexus. There I
realized I was there, but my self was not.
I just stood there, watching the bodies with glassy eyes, hearing the clashing of steel
against wooden shields. The view was chaotic. A fine warrior, with long blond hair,
a braided beard, wearing a well-crafted steel plated armor with a heavy chainmail
covering his shoulders and arms. He seemed to be at least seven feet tall. He was
fighting against unimaginable, almost fantastic but scary creatures. He was
outnumbered, but still he stood bravely against all. I admired his bravery and his
exotic fight style. His sword dripping bold, black drops of what may have been
monster blood. An enormous humanlike creature swinging a club smashed half the
creatures that attacked the warrior.
I began running in fear. The grass was burnt and warm. Hiding behind a big rock,
there was a small creature that my father used to call a dwarf. Their race was known
for being naïve but yet smart. They were as tall a man’s leg, ugly, robust and
vigorous. Also known to be the most skilled smiths and crafters in all Yggdrasil. His
armor was as black as night. A double sided battle axe with a beautifully carved
inscription that I could not read or understand was being swung by him wildly at the
beasts crawling from behind the rock.
Running behind me I could see a huge spider as big as a boar, mounted by a grayish
small humanlike figure. In that moment I recall the tales Ulfrick told me about these
horrendous monsters. The tale talked about them and their battle against dwarfs in
the deep caves of Mótsognir. He said that they were elves cursed by the gods because
of their desire of being greater than the rulers of Asgard. The punish assigned by the
gods was to send them from Alfheim the land of light elves to Svartálfaheim, the land
of dark elves (named in that way after them) with the aspect of horrible creatures
called goblins.
There was an outstanding silhouette being darkened by the bright sun behind them.
He had a long but strangely shaped sword. The sword was bright dark. It seemed to
be made out of a crystal or rock. He swung it against another human while riding a
horse as dark as his sword, surprised by his brutality and agility. Mesmerized by the
half torso torn apart from its owner. I saw him riding almost dramatically behind the
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