He climbed the hill to see the only person who could answer his questions.
The spirits would only talk of destiny and what must come next. How he had to save his people.
He would ask her and she would tell him what he already knew.
He greeted her politely and accepted the seat and the stew he was offered.
He listened to the stories. All the old tales of there people, then the stories of the runes and the first high king that told as she witnessed them. She listened to her talk about the love she held for her husband even after all this time and how part of her longed for his death so she could be free.
For twelve days he listened to all of her stories from the birth of their land to the poor cursed fool who visited her last.
Then she told him to ask his question.
Then she told him what he already knew.
He was chosen for a reason. All of his people were in danger. The time for hiding was over. Time was running out.
Gjæving left her cave and headed back down the hill. His hood down unable to hide the tears in his eye.
He had left the cave with more questions than answers.
Could he do what must be done?
Could his people endure the horror ahead?
Where Gods and Legends failed could he rely on heroes?
If not all could be lost.