The Runestone - A Throwback: In honor of the upcoming Winter Finding celebrations

Ullr's Gifts to Hunter by WulthuthewaR

From The Runestone, Fall-Winter 1999

Long ago, in the days before man received the gift of iron or runes, he hunted. During the long, cold winters, it was the heart of the tribe. Long after the plants were gone, hunting provided food. Long after Sunna's warmth had gone, it provided furs for warmth.

The whole tribe hunted together as the whole tribe ate together. With nets they captured the large game, with rocks and sticks they killed the small. All was well.

Until the year the tribe almost died.

It was a harsh winter. Cold enough that a sapling bent to set a snare would snap. Cold enough that the people had to go far out on the ice to break through for water. Cold enough that a child grew deathly ill.

The child's sickness swept through the tribe, making everyone too weak to hunt, save one. He was called Hunter, for he was the best at killing a rabbit with a thrown rock or stick.

He tended his tribe, waiting for the sickness to pass. None died, but none regained their strength. Then the stored food was gone, and the fever did not pass.

Hunter gathered his rabbit sticks and went out. The snow was deep, and Hunter had to force his way through it. The hares and rabbits, who walk on the crust of the snow, heard him, and stayed out of his range. Hunter wished that he too could walk on the snow, but he was not a rabbit and had to return home at the end of the day without food.

And his tribe grew weaker, and his daughter no longer answered when he talked to her.

The next day he took the tribe's nets out to the trails the larger animals left in the snow. He found two trees close on either side of the trail and placed the net across it. Hunter then circled far around and, with his flint tipped spear, waited beside the trail. Deer rushed down the trail towards his net but stopped in front of it. Hunter rushed towards them, yelling, and hoping to scare them into the net, but they ran around it. Hunter threw his spear, but even at his closest, he was far out of range.

Without others to cast the net, the deer could not be caught.

Again, Hunter returned home unsuccessful. And now many of his tribe no longer spoke, and all were close to death.

The next day Hunter brought all of the tribe's nets. Hunter skillfully created a trap from them, so that no matter which way the deer ran they would be ensnared. Hunter again circled far around and, with his flint tipped spear, Hunter waited.

A bull moose ran down the path and, being poor of sight. into the net. Angered, it began tearing the precious nets to pieces. In horror, Hunter jumped forward and thrust the spear into the moose. But a spear thrust will not kill a moose, and Hunter had to climb a tree for his life.

As Hunter sat in the tree, he felt a new type of cold, this one starting from his heart and flowing out. Hunter had failed. He could not provide food for his tribe, and without food all would die. Hunter wept for his people.

A movement in the snow caught Hunter's attention. He watched in amazement at a tall man walking across the top of the deep snow carrying a bent stave. Hunter had never seen a man such as this before. who seemed to shine brighter than the snow. He looked at his feet and saw that he walked on nets stretched between sticks. The man stopped before Hunter and reached up, touched his tears.

"My people," said Hunter "they die. They are starving and I cannot feed them."

The brilliant man pointed across the field toward several deer, who were poking their heads deep into snow to graze.

"l have tried." Hunter said, “but they are too wary for me to net alone, too wary for me to approach in this snow."

The man lifted his bow. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and fitted it to the string. How strange thought Hunter, yet his heart raced with excitement. With a snap, the bow sent an arrow across the field, dropping a deer.

Something else snapped in Hunter's mind, and he fell from the low branch. Suddenly he understood the bow, and how it sent the arrow further and faster than he could throw it. Suddenly he understood the snowshoes, and how they trapped the snow like a hunting net.

He got to his feet and looked around. The man was gone, but his belongings remained. "Who are you?" breathed Hunter. A voice inside his head told him "You will hear my name in the howl of the wolves," and he shivered.

Hunter picked up the snowshoes and looked at them. "We can make these!" he said, and tied them to his feet.

Hunter picked up the quiver of arrows and examined one. "We can make these!" he said, and tied the wolf hide belt around his waist.

Hunter picked up the bow and drew the string. "We can make this!" he said, and slung it across his chest.

Hunter then hurried to the deer, for he had many to feed in the coming days. As he dragged it home, he heard wolves in the distance. He listened to them calling to him who is first among them.

“Uuuuullll” they called.

"Ull” Hunter replied.