The Tale Of Ragnar

• David Cullum, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2018

Ragnar never really liked following rules, he had always had a troublesome childhood. He was always doing something that would get him beaten. Whether it be tipping over the big, shaggy Yak in the Battle-Born’s yard or climbing the yarls hulking fortress of a house, Dragon Watch. But for once in his life he would have to keep his head down and stay quiet.
The Imperial dogs knew we were coming; they ambushed us in the small secluded valley that marked the border of Imperial and Stormcloak territory. It was Battle-Born against Grey-Mane.
They had archers lying in wait, on top of the tall cliffs at opposing sides of the valley. As soon as we walked through into the middle of it, they let loose their arrows. Ragnar was lucky that he had a shield, others…not so lucky. Everyone around him was falling to the ground, with arrows almost everywhere. Ragnar crouched low to the rough, dirty ground making himself as small as possible, and covering himself with the shield. He felt a plethora of insidious thuds against his sturdy protection, risking a hesitant glance from underneath his shield; He saw his trustworthy shield brother Sven, expertly fighting off dozens of imperial soldiers. The whirring sound of his massive battle-axe was like a million swarms of locust, cutting a bloody swathe through anyone who dared step as close as an arm’s length to that machine of anger and rage. However, no one can withstand that form for so long, he was already starting to tire, and the soldiers pounced on that opportunity like a sabretooth tiger stalking its prey. They started to slowly advance on him, and that’s when Ragnar snapped. He roared his fury and rage, he charged at the soldiers like an enraged bull, rushing into bloody battle with his shield raised. Ragnar slammed into an imperial footman’s side, with enough force to send him to Helheim a million times over. He felt the framework of his armour bending underneath the force of Ragnar’s charge, and the sickening crunch of bones snapping and grinding together. He fell down screaming to the earth clutching his ribs, Ragnar stabbed down piercing the man’s thick leather armour and ending his screams for good. Sven and Ragnar tried in vain to fend off the increasing numbers, as a fresh squad of men were advancing on them. “There’s too many of them!” Ragnar yelled, fear lining his voice. “Run Sven, I’ll hold them off!” “What? No! You’ll die, I can’t just leave you” Sven cried, begging for his friend not to do what he was thinking. “I’m sorry brother! Long live the Stormcloaks!” Ragnar bellowed as he shoved Sven down the hill into the unexplored woods.
Ragnar whirled around to face his enemies, screaming out in challenge, “Come on! I haven’t got all morning! What are you, sca-?” THUNK. Ragnar didn’t see where the arrow came from. A soldier took that chance to dart forward and strike…the world went dark.