The wolves gave chase and Eofor ran. He did not know the land. It was cold here and only the uncaring stars cast a chill gleam upon the ground. Trackless wastes of snow flashed past half-seen. Occasionally, he barrelled through dark forests where branches whipped his face. Eofor’s breath came in heaves, but he did not slow. 

Behind him, wolves howled.

Why was he here? The question thundered in Eofor’s head, but he could not say. He was lost. At one point, he tripped upon an object lying half-hidden in the snow. It was a long, narrow bundle of sackcloth. It filled him with a sense of foreboding. He picked himself up, and continued running.

The bundle appeared again and again in his path. Each time, he ignored it. Eofor trusted nothing in this blighted place. The only constant was the feeling that if the wolves caught up to him, he was dead. So he ran on without direction.

Then he saw the dim light. He ran towards it and suddenly found himself in front of a glowing cavern entrance. Nervously, he glanced back. The wolves were not there. With a shiver, he stepped forward into the cave.

Warmth hit him like a sea wave. Eofor paused. Did he know the sea? Had he felt a wave? He shook his head and focused on the roaring fire before him. For a moment, he could finally catch his breath.

A ragged figure sat next to the blaze. He was a hairy giant clad in tattered furs. As Eofor drew close, the man raised his gaze, revealing a worn face. After a brief glance of appraisal, the old man turned back to the fire and stoked it with a stick he held in his right hand. His left ended in a grim stump.

‘Come,’ the fireside figure growled, ‘sit and be warm.’

Eofor sank down wearily. The elder looked at him over the fire. His eyes were pitiless chips of ice. 

‘What is your name, young one?’

‘Eofor.’

‘Strong name,’ the old man mused, ‘Why are you here?’

‘I…’ Eofor paused. ‘I do not know.’

‘This is not a place for the lost.’

‘And where is this?’ Eofor asked.

‘Why do you think you are here?’ the elder continued, ignoring the question. 

‘I am dead. This is Hel,’ Eofor replied. The old man laughed cruelly. It was a strange noise in this dark land. ‘Have you come to torment me, then?’ Eofor felt his anger rise.

‘Peace, Eofor.’ The old man raised his good hand. ‘I am merely tending this fire.’ In the distance, wolves howled and Eofor shivered.

‘If not you, then they most certainly have. They have chased me for as long as I can remember.’

‘You flee from them?’ the old man asked skeptically. 

Eofor looked away.

‘I am afraid,’ he admitted meekly.

‘Afraid?’ the elder snarled. ‘What do you have to fear from wolves?’ A sudden sense of shame filled Eofor. 

‘If they catch me, I will be dead.’

‘I thought you were already dead.’ The two sat in silence as the fire crackled. Wolves howled again. Eofor made to rise. If he left now, he could stay ahead of-

‘Running, you are prey,’ the old man said suddenly. ‘Wolves chase prey. Are you prey, Eofor?’

‘I do not know.’ Eofor stood. ‘I am scared. Confused. Alone.’

‘You are not alone,’ the old man added, ‘you have the wolves.’ Eofor stared out into the dark. He could hear the beasts now, panting and yelping. They were almost upon him. 

‘You have that too,’ the elder said, gesturing towards a bundled object near the fire. Eofor’s eyes narrowed. He had not seen it when he had come in, but he recognised it. Hesitantly, he flipped away the sackcloth to reveal a finely crafted axe. Something stirred within him.

‘Is this yours, elder?’

‘No, I preferred a claw,’ he said, waving his stump briefly. ‘It is yours, young one.’ Eofor reached down and grabbed the axe’s haft. It felt warm in his hand.

‘I am not prey,’ Eofor said softly. He hefted the axe with ease. ‘I am a warrior.’ The old man grinned.

‘Warriors do not run,’ Eofor continued. A rolling tide of courage was building within him. For the first time that he could remember, he did not feel cold. ‘I am Eofor of Tra,’ he declared. 

‘You are,’ the old man nodded.

‘This is my axe, Skofnung. The All-Father’s foes quailed before it. Before me. Even as I bled away.’ Eofor smiled to match that of the fire keeper, revealing vicious fangs.

‘They will again,’ the firekeeper said.

‘You have led me back, Elder.’ Eofor bowed his head. ‘Thank you.’

‘I merely lit the way. It is always hard the first time. Do you know why you are here?’

‘I understand. I cannot say that I like it, but I understand.’ A flash of sadness passed across the elder’s craggy face but he nodded.

‘Go then. You have nothing to fear from wolves.’ The fire began to gutter. Outside the cave, the moon was rising, casting its pale light across the wastes. For the first time, Eofor could see what lay before him. He paused for a moment at the cavern’s threshold. 

‘Will we meet again, Elder?’ 

The old man grunted.

‘Again and again. Until the end.’ 

Eofor grinned as the fire vanished, taking the elder with it. He turned back to the moonlit valley. A horde of wolves were ranked before him, dozens upon dozens of all colors and sizes. They watched him patiently as he emerged into the light. With a cry, he hefted Skofnung above his head and stood tall. 

The wolves howled their approval.