Victor!
CHAPTER 1
The Mead Hall
An elk made of iron and wood decorated the thirty-foot-tall doors in the side of the mountain. It reared on its hind legs, its antlers a pattern of intricate circles that spiraled and twisted over one another. Giant icicles hung above the doors in rows of jagged lines that looked like the gaping maw of some great beast. They caught the fading light from the sun as it dipped below the mountain crest and appeared like bloodstained teeth.
The wind blew harder, biting through Leif Jurgensen’s furs and leather as he gazed up at the massive doors. Snow that had collected along the rock face drifted down.
Leif scratched his beard and pondered how to enter. There were no guards upon the walls and only the giants that once lived here were tall enough to reach the door knocker that towered twenty feet above him. Leif raised his hammer and slammed it against the door three times. Three booming echoes greeted him. Then silence.
Leif waited patiently and listened for the call of a guard questioning his presence. There was no challenge or any guard that he could tell. Darkness descended quickly once the sun disappeared behind the mountains. The temperature would grow colder just as quick and Leif was eager for food and rest.
He shook his head. The tribe of the Elk was lax in its duties, overconfident that the giants that had abandoned the mountain would never return. Angered, he raised his hammer once more.
The doors began to move. They ground slowly open, growling and rumbling as stone scraped against stone. As they opened, a dark tunnel stretched ahead of him into the depths of the mountain. A warm orange glow came from a chamber further down. The smell of roasted goat and garlic wafted through the tunnel. Leif smiled at the promise of warmth, food, and companionship. He strode forward, his stomach grumbling from the smell of the cooked meat.
Half-way down the tunnel, the doors banged completely open behind him. The winter winds howled into the tunnel in all their fury. Snow settled onto the ground, while shadows tall as giants danced on the walls.
As Leif drew closer to the room, he could hear the shouts of those gathered inside. They were not raised in song, or revelry, or communal joy, but in anger. One voice spoke now, a hard, stone voice that silenced all of the others.
"None among you have the courage to take my daughters hand in marriage? There’s no one brave enough to challenge this beast that plagues us? No one? The speaker paused.
The men of the Elk are a sorry lot indeed. The gods must rue the day they decided to place spines in your backs and dared to call you men."
Leif watched them from the shadows. Fires crackled in several stone pits as the speaker waited. No tribesman came forward. They sat glumly on their benches, men and womenfolk alike.
Back down the hall the doors slammed shut once more. They echoed in the silence that answered the speaker’s challenge. No one noticed Leif as he studied them. If he were a giant…
The Elk Tribe was lax indeed.
Leif stepped into the mead hall and was greeted by a kiss of warmth. Fires blazed in multiple hearths and men and women sat miserably at their tables, their meals and mugs of ale forgotten. They looked at a platform where a huge man with a braided black beard and a crown made of antlers stood before them. Dressed in furs and a light grey tunic, he moved like a warrior. His face was etched with pride and his black eyes shone in the firelight as he paced the platform daring any man to answer his call.
Behind him sat a woman of incredible beauty. Long blonde hair cascaded down her face and she sat with her hands clasped in her lap. Occasionally she gazed up shyly, her liquid blue eyes studying the faces of those in the crowd.
