“PAPA!” I shout, darting past the various groups of conversing adults, catching up on the daily events of our community. “PAPA YOU CANNOT HIDE!”

“Hildr!” Came the familiar voice of one of my papa’s coworkers. I spun around to see a group of them smiling at me, horns in hand. “Searching for Yaromir?”

“I WILL LAUNCH A SURPRISE ATTACK AND GAIN THE UPPER HAND!!” I roar, lifting up my fists.

“By shouting ‘papa’ up and down the hall?” he asked.

“VICTORY!!”

The men laugh, as one points down a hallway. “He was heading down that way just a moment ago, helping getting things set up. You may yet catch him.”

I roared in response, and darted down the hallway. But before I could even make it halfway down the hall, a silhouette jumped from one of the rooms and scooped me up, roaring back at me. I giggled, pushing his face away, as he rubbed his scruffy grey beard on my face. He smelled of fire, coal, and steel. A familiar, comforting scent. “Stop it stop it!” I shrieked, happily. “Your beard is itchy!”

He held me at arm's length, grinning at me with his ice blue eyes and short, sensible grey hair, still wearing his foundry uniform, having come straight here after work hours to assist in getting ready for the celebration, as any good pagan would do. “There’s my soldier! Look at you!” he laughed, setting me down, and kneeling to my level. He was a giant, even among our community, and I wanted to be as big and strong as him when I grew up. He pulled away, studying my wound, and I squirmed excitedly as I waited. “Did you do this yourself?” He asked me, acting as if he did not already know.

“Uh-huh!” I said happily.

“Why look at you, already applying your own combat dressings!” He said approvingly, gently placing the bandage back on my face. ”But tell me, great warrior, how did you earn yourself such a wound?”

“I’m King of the Mountain!” I shout, arms raised high above my head, and chin up with pride.

“No!” he said, faking surprise.

“YES!” I roared, jumping into his arms.

“That’s my girl!” He shouted, placing me on his shoulder. “Come, my little soldier!” he said, walking towards the center hall. “An achievement so great deserves a reward, I’d say!” He lead me back to the center hall, and right to the grand table, taking a horn and filling it with ale.

“What on earth are you planning?” Came mama's voice. Papa and I turned to her smiling, his hand half raised to hand me the horn.

“Ah love of my life. You know me so well.” He grinned, trying to flatter her.

The edge of her lips twitched as she crossed her arms. “Well I didn’t exactly fall for your cleverness did I?”

“Come now dearest, she earned it.”

“Yeah!” I chime, not quite getting what they’re talking about. “She earned it!”

“He’s giving it to you, my darling.” She said to me.

“Giving what to me?” I ask, head tilted.

“The ale.”

“But I’m too young for ale.” I said with growing confusion.

My mama merely gestured to me, staring at my father, as if saying, ‘See?’ I was very confused.

“Come now, Nadine.” My papa said, handing me the horn, and bringing my mama close. “It’s Yule. It’s just one.”

“Oh very well.” My mama said, rolling her eyes. “But only one.”

Realization dawned on me, and my eyes turned to saucers. I looked down at the horn in my hands, filled with the strange, smelly liquid that symbolized adulthood. Than to my papa smiling at me, proudly. “Go on, my soldier,” he said. “But just this once.”

I squeal with delight. I was being treated like a grown up! This was one step closer to being a warrior. I grin, eagerly drinking from the horn. I almost choke, just barely able to turn it to a gag. My first impulse was to chuck the horn across the room, but at the corner of my eye I saw my parents. Looking at me expectantly...amused. This was a test. This stuff was supposed to be disgusting and this was a test of strength. I would win this game than.

I gritted my teeth, and continued drinking, craning my neck back to make sure to get every drop. “AHHH!!” I said, dramatically, wiping my mouth in my sleeve, as the hall burst into applause and roars of approval.

“My what a day you have had, young Hildr.” Came a slow, cheerful, careful voice. With it, the room went silent, and the crowd parted for an old woman, covered in mesmerising tattoos, and had a long, carefully kept grey braid. She smiled at me, leaning on a sturdy staff, with ruins going up and down it. “Perhaps that means you are too grown up to hear my stories?”

“NO!” I squeal, trying to jump from my papa. “Papa help! I’m gonna miss it!”

“Calm down, Hildr, calm down.” He laughed, lowering me to the floor. “She wouldn’t dream to start without you, would you, lady?”

“And risk losing the god's most faithful?” She chuckled, as I darted to her, placing her hand lovingly to my head. “How could I ever show my face to them again? Come dear. Let the adults deal with boring matters. Today I tell of Egil Skallagrimsson’s Saga.”