Short Story: Thanur

Red-haired Thunar grew up poor, weak, and helpless. His father, Signar, was once a proud mercenary-warrior; half-Nord and half-giant.  Then one day, he entered into a state of grief that he never left. Around him, nobody knew what caused him to fall into such a deep despair; they could only pity him. That is all Thunar saw of his father. 

The red-haired, silver-eyed boy was disliked by everyone for his weakness, and even his father’s mercenary band considered him a failure. Except for black-haired Voluk. A kind, skilled, and patient warrior, Voluk considered Signar his brother, and treated Thunar like his own son- never giving up on him, and rarely beating him.

Finally, on his father’s deathbed, it was revealed that Thunar’s mother was a  minor storm Goddess that Signar had loved for decades, and when she disappeared without a trace, Signar fell into depression at the loss of his beloved. Thunar’s sickness was caused by him not knowing he was part God, by not acknowledging that aspect of himself, it raged inside of him- draining his muscles of strength and ravaging his spirit of will. Signar died with Thunar and Voluk by his side, but they could never give him the warmth of his beloved- Signar died sad, miserable, and depressed.

After knowing his true nature, and over just a few days, Thunar’s sickliness, and physical weakness vanished. Finally able to partake in regular training, he quickly built a very impressive physique, even his once pale-rose mane became a dark and fine wine-red. From sunrise to sunset, in Sun, snow, or rain, Thunar never- ever- missed a session. All this meant young Thanur looked near double his real age; growing a formidable beard.

But something was off. Thunar was never an emotional lad nor a stunning conversationalist, he rarely showed any emotion and mostly stayed quiet, even when insulted or beaten. But inside, whether a soft slap or a slight remark- Thanur remembered. 

Thanur always remembered.

It seethed in his heart, burned in his mind, and boiled his blood. The helpless feeling that physical weakness brought- he hated that the most. 

One day, when only half the Sun rose through the horizon, and that crisp night air still lingered,  19 year-old Thunar grabbed his favorite warhammer,  approached the, now grey-haired, Voluk, and challenged him to a duel to the death. When Voluk refused, Thanur forced his hand by attacking anyway.

Despite Voluk’s age, he was still a skilled warrior with a lion's heart, but Thunar proved too strong, and every blow stuned, flung, and rocked the old warrior. The duel essentially came to a close when Voluk took a  crushing blow to his left shoulder, that Thanur followed up with a thudding kick to the abdomen that threw Voluk to the ground, where the old man lay bare. In biting pain, stinging cold,  and coughing on his own blood, Voluk surrendered, but Thanur… oh, he wasn’t the type to accept it. It wasn’t stastifying. 

Thanur stood over Voluk, his large size casting a shadow that cloaked the old man. Voluk stared right into his silver eyes. In them, Voluk found nothing… nothing at all.

Thanur raised his hammer in the air... then brought it down like a crack of lightning! Voluk’s head shattered on impact.

Thanur had killed his own adoptive father.

He never gave him a proper burial. He simply picked up his hammer, and walked away. Not a stutter in his step.

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