Art by Ludwig Pietsch.
Back in the Spring of 2014, I took a class on epic literature/poetry at Cal Poly Pomona. One of the stories we studied was The Nibelungenlied, which centered around Sigurd, the legendary hero from Germanic Mythology. If I recall, Germanic and Norse mythology was something I was really into at the time, thanks in part to the recently-released Thor: The Dark World and Frozen (which didn't really have much in terms of mythology, but the Scandinavian aesthetic was there).
During the time I was in class, one of our assignments was to do a creative project based on what we were studying. I decided to write something tied to The Nibelungenlied, and picked the story of Siggeir's mother. Siggeir was the King of Gautland who opposed Sigurd, but his mother only gets mention in one section. All that's said about her is that she could shape-shift into a wolf. There wasn't much else, so I decided to extrapolate and create a short story around the one chapter she was in. Spring of 2014 was also the time that Disney released Maleficent, their retelling of Sleeping Beauty, so the whole idea of retelling a story from another character's perspective was at the front of my mind during that time.
This isn't exactly a perfect story - my first published short story ("A Second Chance") wouldn't be out until 2016, but there are parts of it I'm still proud of. Read on, and I hope you enjoy it!
---
A Human in
Wolf’s Skin: The Story of Siggeir’s Mother
Running
through the woods, I picked up the scent of a lonely traveler. I smiled, my fangs shining like a flash of
white in the dark. Running closer, I
found my prey and mauled him to death, the raw meat like honey in my
mouth. It didn’t matter that I had eaten
well in my son’s hall only hours ago; I needed raw meat. The thrill of hunting down something and
eating had grown on me.
Content,
I ran silently, swiftly, back to my cottage in the woods. It was a secluded area, where no human,
dwarf, or troll dared to go. As I walked
towards the door, I started to walk upright, hind legs becoming human, front
paws transforming into those of a lady in her middle age. I walked into the cottage, the wolf’s skin on
my back, while still picking at a piece of meat in my mouth. It was a small cottage, with only a bed, a
table, and a few chairs. I started a
fire, sitting down, still remembering the rush that I had just had. I knew I would have to return to Siggeir’s castle
in time. He would be wondering where his
mother was. The people of Gautland only
saw me as the former queen, before my son took over. Left alone, all I had was some magic that I
could dabble in; it was this way that I first learned about the ability to
transform into an animal by wearing its skin.
Becoming a wolf was the most appealing to me, for they seemed strong and
unstoppable; I took it upon myself to get a few skins one night. And now, every night, I found myself hunting
for stray travelers, having grown used to the taste.
Feeling
relaxed, I fell asleep; I’d have to awake earlier in order to make it back
before the sunrise. But that night I was
restless. I dreamt I was somewhere, underneath
a huge tree, watching three women working on a thread. Quietly they worked, measuring and spinning,
not paying attention to me, as if I were invisible.
“The
former queen of Gautland has had a long life,” one said, admiring her work.
“Yes
she has, Urd,” the second said. “And now
she has reached a remarkably old age.”
That’s not true,
I thought, I’m only around fifty. But I listened on.
“But
it must end,” the third, final one said, looking forlornly at the thread’s end
point. “That wolf skin has brought her
satisfaction and joy; but now it will be the cause of her death.”
I
woke up, sweat pouring down my forehead.
Only a dream, I thought. But then
I paused. Hadn’t it been said, in the
old tales, that the great Balder had dreams before his doom came upon him? Who was to say my dream was any
different? Worried, I slowly took a look
at the wolf skin, still hanging on a chair nearby. A dozen thoughts went through my head; I had
no choice, it seemed; if I wanted to prolong my life, I would have to stop
using the skin. My heart ached at the
thought; it was like parting with a dear child.
I shook my head.
“It
must be done,” I said out loud, hoping that hearing my voice say it would make
me more certain. The next morning,
before I returned to the castle, I buried it in a clearing, surrounded by
dozens of ash trees.
The
next few nights, I stayed put in the castle.
I heard only a few bits and pieces of the outside world… Siggeir was to
have guests over, the sons of King Volsung, from whom Siggeir’s wife Signy was
also his daughter. I only paid marginal
attention to the news, though; most of my efforts were spent trying to forget
about the wolf skin. The dream of the
three women still haunted me. I now
realized they were the Norns, the three women of fate who even the gods feared. I had heard stories throughout my life of the
inevitability of fate, about Ragnarok, the last great battle before the world’s
end. I made no claim otherwise regarding
myself; but, I thought, if I could just prolong that day, perhaps I could have
a few more years. Didn’t Odin himself
constantly try to prevent his own doom?
I
tried to forget the taste of raw meat; all I could eat now was cooked food in
the hall. For a while, it was working. I particularly liked the sweetness of honey. But as I lay in bed at night, I still thought
about running through the woods as a wolf; when not worrying about the Norns, my
dreams were filled with thoughts about being freed, freed from my mortal body
and able to run throughout the woods, not afraid of anything. I was never trained to be a warrior, never
had the chance to wear armor or go into battle, and from a young age I never
expected to ever be admitted into Odin’s hall.
It wasn’t just the ravenous hunger for flesh that I had acquired; it was
the opportunity to forget my humanity, even for a while.
One
evening, one of the servant girls came into my room, bringing food; I had
gotten one of my raw meat cravings after dinner, and was hoping having
something to nibble on would keep my mind off of my usual helping of meat at
this hour.
“Here
you go, Your Majesty,” the girl said. I
simply nodded. I stared long and hard at
her; just another servant girl, nobody would miss her if she was found dead. I wondered…
Before
I knew anything, I had grabbed onto the hem of her dress, holding tightly, like
a cat grabbing a mouse’s tail.
“Is
something the matter, Your Majesty?” she asked with a voice like a quiet
stream, unaffected and innocent.
No
one would miss her if she was found dead, I thought. My mouth watered at the thought; just make it
look like any other wolf attack, no big deal…
“Is
something wrong, ma’am?” the servant girl asked again, staring at me with her
green eyes. I got a hold of myself;
balling my hands into fists, I shook my head.
She was young; even if I had my wolf skin, I couldn’t bring myself to
eat her. The urge was there, of course,
but there was something about not having my skin that made it impossible to
just devour a servant right there. I
simultaneously praised and cursed myself; being trapped in this decaying,
bipedal body made me yearn even more for when I was free to live like an
animal, free from the order and rules that were thrust upon me.
A
couple of months passed; I tried my best to adjust to being just a human again,
but it too little success. In the back
of my mind, I found myself trying to pick apart that vivid dream I had not too
long ago. How would I have died? That was a question on everyone’s mind,
really. But if I was in my wolf skin,
what could have enough power to kill me?
As a wolf, I was invincible! Only
the strongest of warriors could take out one.
Maybe…
Before
I could think anything, one of the servants came to me with news. Siggeir had captured King Volsung’s
sons. There was a great battle---
apparently our kingdoms were not good allies after all--- and our side
won. Siggeir had wanted them dead, but
Signy, obviously objecting to her brothers’ dying, requested that they be
instead held in stocks, so that they might live a little longer. Surprisingly, my son agreed.
Later
that night, the moon rose up. It brought
back memories of when I used to howl at the moon in the evening. Suddenly I wanted to go out there again; even
my urge to feast on lost travelers in the woods returned. It came back even more strongly, and I wanted
to eat something. There’s just something
about tasting human meat the first time; you can’t get the taste away from
you. It’s like mead.
“I
can’t…” I said over and over. The skin
would be the death of me, which much I knew.
I couldn’t risk going after some prey… unless…
I
thought it over again. There were at
least ten prisoners locked in stocks by the woods. Fresh meat… with no way to fight back... The
thought appealed to me. A smirk came
across my face. Maybe just one more,
just to get my mind off of it, I thought to myself.
Under
the cover of the dark, I made my way to the clearing. I dug up the wolf skin, and put it on; it was
like welcoming an old friend. I felt my
body changing, and soon I was running through the woods, my nose guiding me to
where Volsung’s sons were.
I
found them all, locked in their stocks, asleep.
The moonlight shone on all their faces… Without thinking twice, I went
for the one nearest me. The taste of his
neck between my fangs felt warm; I hadn’t realized how long I missed raw
meat. Before I could hesitate, I
finished my meal, leaving only a few scraps of what was once a human. I howled in delight, awakening the
brothers. Before they could fully react
in horror, I retreated into the woods, feeling happier than I ever had been.
The
next morning, Signy was weeping over the death of one of her brothers. No one suspected that it was I, so I said
nothing. I told myself I was done, that
I could now completely put off the wolf skin until a later time, and live a
little longer.
At
least, that’s what I thought.
As
it turned out, the more I wanted to get rid of it, the more it seemed like I
needed it. Before I knew anything, I was
putting on the skin every night, and going out to feast on one of the
brothers. Some of them gasped in
shock. Others screamed in horror. But the flesh and blood between my teeth made
me feel so good.
I’ll stop after tonight,
I always said. Just one more bite. But
before I knew it, there was only one man left.
In my room the next day, I mulled over what had happened. I didn’t intend to go every night; indeed, I
didn’t want to wear the wolf skin every night either, fearing that that would
bring me closer to death as time went on.
But every time I thought that, I figured, “No, it’s not a big deal. They’re all in stocks. What harm could they cause me?”
Signy,
for her part, was always heartbroken to hear that, every night, a she-wolf
would come and devour her brothers. Part
of me wanted to comfort her, but I quickly did away with it in the back of my
mind. Who knows what she would convince
her brother to do to me if she knew the truth?
The
final night, only one brother was left, the one named Sigmund. Before I went out, skin in hand, I quietly
walked through the castle. I overheard
Signy talking to one of the servants.
“I
did as you commanded,” the servant said.
I quickly turned away before curiosity got the better of me.
Silently
I ran to the part of the woods where Signy’s final brother was. He sat alone, with an almost calm look on his
face. After seeing all his brothers die,
he didn’t seem at all fazed that he might be next.
Poor fool, I
thought.
I
looked at him, all alone and quiet.
Without his armor, he didn’t seem at all intimidating. He stared back at me, with a look that was
somewhere between shock and anticipation.
I briefly wondered whether or not I should carry on, maybe sparing one
of Signy’s brothers would be better. But
I could already smell him, and my hunger took over my mind. I quickly approached Sigmund, tail wagging in
excitement.
Since
he was the last one, I figured I’d enjoy one final meal. As I began to lick his face, a sweet
substance caught my tongue.
It
was honey!
How
did this end up on his face? Maybe his
sister had ordered the servant to feed him.
I smirked a bit; all she had given him was false hope. But the honey was very sweet, and so I
savored every drop. I soon found that
some honey was still in his mouth. I
reached my tongue inside and…
I
yelped in pain. Sigmund had bitten down
hard on my tongue. Desperately I tried
to break free, trying to assault him as much as I could. It was no use; the force of my struggle
ripped me free from my tongue. Blood dropped
in splotches all over the ground in front of me. So much blood.
I
felt weak, and as the throbbing pain in my mouth shook me, I fell down, staring
up at Sigmund, the one who finally killed me, and who proceeded to spit my own,
red tongue back out, letting fall limply near me. Death came upon me, as I felt my body
weakening. No one would know where I
went. Siggeir wouldn’t find me in bed
tomorrow, while Signy would be delighted to hear her brother was spared. As the night wore on, I felt Hel’s arms
embracing me, as the Norns’ words echoed in my mind.
“It
will be the cause of her death,” they had said.
And they were right, for who could ever win while fighting against
fate?
