He saw the house from the path he was walking. It was a simple stone-looking structure with what looked like a small walled off garden. Looking briefly around until he spotted a man in a short tunic and a wide-brimmed hat, the stranger pulled the ragged cloak over his right shoulder and began to move towards the man. As he got closer, the man with the wide-brimmed hat stopped tending the field as he had been doing and looked up at the stranger in with the ragged cloak, becoming somewhat fearful as he saw how large the stranger was.
“Cease your approach, child of the giants, and tell me if you are friend or enemy.”
Readjusting the cloak so that it continued to hide most of his right side, the stranger lifted his left hand in greeting and smiled.
“Good day to you dear sir, I am merely a traveler looking for a roof over my head before the sun sets, might I find one at yonder house which I assume is yours?”
“That it is, and you are welcome to rest within the walls but not the house itself. I will treat you to a meal as well.”
“Thank you, your hospitality is agreeable, though uncommon I imagine.”
“Nay sir, for we are encouraged to welcome travelers and care for them, lest they be Zeus or another of the fair Olympians in disguise. Such are the ways of the world.”
The stranger cocked his head slightly but continued to follow the farmer smiling. Once closer to the house, a young boy came out and ran to the farmer.
“Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner stranger, I am Castor, and this is my son Ambrose. What may we call you?”
“I ask your forgiveness in not introducing myself as well. You may call me Tyr.”
Tyr followed Castor and his son into the walled off section of the property, to which Ambrose led Tyr to a place for his to sit while Castor went inside to get some food. Tyr readjusted his cloak as he sat and played a round of catch with Ambrose.
After a short while, Castor returned with three plates, each possessing a large piece of bread, a handful of grapes and a small chunk of cheese, as well as a wineskin and cups. Once Castor distributed the plates between Tyr, Ambrose and himself, he gave thanks to Zeus and Demeter for the meal. As they ate, Tyr noticed that the boy Ambrose kept looking over at him and then down to his cloak, where he had not removed his arm since the meal began. Smiling still, Tyr looked over to the boy and asked, “Is there something about me you want to ask Ambrose?”
“Why haven’t using both your hands to eat the meal?”
Tyr chuckled at the boy, who upon his closer look must have been around five years of age.
“My reason is quite simple Ambrose: I am missing my right hand. Would you like to see for yourself?”
The boy’s mouth dropped, but he nodded all the same. Tyr lifted his right arm that he had spent a great deal of time keeping hidden. There were several white lines from former scars leading to his wrist, to which his hand was missing. Castor gulped several times and seemed somewhat uncomfortable about the missing limb, so Tyr returned his arm back under his cloak bit another mouthful of bread.
“Apollo must favor you Tyr, for I have seen men die after losing their hand. Yet you are none the worse for wear it seems.” said Castor.
“Well, I don’t know who to thank for my life not being taken after the wound, but I will thank you for the meal you have provided me.” replied Tyr, who then asked, “Tell me, is there any way I can repay you kindness?”
“There is no need for that, after all we are charged by Zeus to help strangers. But see now, night has fallen, may I leave you here to do my evening prayers in the house?”
Tyr smiled and gestured for Castor to do so. As Castor went into the house Ambrose made a grimace and whispered to Tyr “I hate that he does that.”
“Oh? You do not share your father’s belief that the Olympians are real?”
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“Huh?” asked Ambrose, surprised that he was heard. “Oh no I do it’s just, I wish things could go back the way they were before the war.”
“War?”
“Yeah, the war between the lesser Athenians and we of Belleropolis for the islands of Delos. Both sides had been called to take these islands as their own by the patron gods of the cities, Athena and Poseidon. When my brother, Alasdair, was sent to fight, Father questioned as to whether the war was just, even if demanded by the gods themselves. For his lack of faith, Poseidon cursed the city so long as we lived in it, and we were driven out. Now he spends what time that he is not working to making prayers, praises and offerings to the Olympians in hopes they will ease our suffering and bring Alasdair home alive and well.”
Ambrose little hands were in clenched fists, and he shook a little as if he were trying not to cry. Tyr placed his large hand on Ambrose’s shoulder to comfort him.
“A man like your brother is lucky have such a caring family to request aid on his behalf.”
“Do you have family, Tyr sir?”
Tyr sighed, gently took his off the boy’s shoulder and looked to the first of the stars that were beginning to appear.
“I honestly don’t know Ambrose; I lost my memory as to who I was and what my life was like. I can remember who the Olympians are and even the names of other immortal pantheons, like the some of the Kami and Vaettir, but not that of my family, or even my own true name.”
“But you said your name was Tyr.”
“I told you and your father that you may call me Tyr. The reason why I said that was because of this scar.” Tyr looked at the boy as he lifted his right arm and then pointed to the large scar right at the end of the stumped limb.
“That looks like an arrow pointing up.”
“This scar strangely resembles a type of writing symbol called a rune, with this particular one being called the ‘Tyr’ Rune. So, until I find out what my real name is, I decided to use the rune as my name.”
“Ambrose, come inside now.”
“Coming Momma. Good night Tyr.”
Tyr smiled as Ambrose ran into the house, then stared once more at the stars, mulling over what he had learned from this family so far.
Where am I exactly? Perhaps Greece since these people believe in the Olympians? But then why was it the Islands of Delos and not the Isle of Delos? And if these places were truly related to the old stories, why were Artemis and Apollo not involved in the fighting? And why am I so much taller and broader than these people? Allfather, help me find the truth.
Tyr finally drifted off to sleep, from which he awoke to the morning mists as the sun just began to peak over the horizon. Rising to his feet and walking out of the walled garden Tyr looked out over the fields Castor had been tending. They were not very large and poorly tilled, no doubt in part due to the recent move that Castor and his family was forced to make, perhaps also from lack of knowledge on Castor part as well. The house was also in poor condition, with cracks in the stones house hidden by the wall and the gate hinges being rusted. Tyr thought about the kindness that he had been shown and felt an urge help them. Looking around to see if there was something he could do, Tyr saw that the firewood pile was nearly empty, no doubt, as there was a nip in the air to suggest the coming of autumn, because the fields needed to take precedence if the family were to eat in the coming months. nodding to himself, Tyr located the axe leaning near the wood pile, and began to walk towards the forest behind the house. Tyr hoped that he might be able to get the wood quickly as he had no doubt that Castor would think that Tyr had stolen the ax for some need of defense. Choosing a healthy-looking tree, Tyr walked up to it and began to chop at the trunk. Though the ax would have needed two hands if Castor had been wielding it, it was only a hatchet to Tyr’s size and when combined with his strength, Tyr had soon felled the tree as the sun was still low in the sky and was dragging the tree back to Castor’s house. As he entered sight of the house Tyr was amused by Castor’s wide-eyed shock.
“By Artemis’s quiver! How the Tartarus can you move that thing?!”
“Well, being this tall comes with some privileges. Come, I will help you cut it to manageable pieces, and you can treat me to breakfast afterwards.”
“Praise to Zeus and Hermes for your visit Tyr, how can I ever repay you for this?”
“Like I said, with breakfast.” Tyr smiled.
Just then Ambrose came running around the corner.
“Father! Father! Adelpha is sick! she has a fever!”
Castor turned a scared look at Ambrose, then turned to Tyr.
“Adelpha is my daughter, she has always been struggling with various diseases and has been rendered weak, with even simple fevers threatening her life. There is medicine sold by the oracles of Apollo, but the nearest one is too far for me make it there and back before dark, and I cannot risk leaving my family or my fields unattended, lest some danger befall them.”
“Go and get the medicine Castor.” Tyr placed his hand on Castor’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “No harm will befall your family while you are gone.”
“Forgive me, honorable as you have been Tyr, even I cannot take a stranger at his word when my family is on the line.”
“Your daughter needs the medicine Castor. Go and get it, lock both door and gate if it makes you feel more secure, but your actions say it is best if you go. I swear by my Troth, that I will not enter your house while you are gone. Nor will I let anyone, or anything enter it while you are gone as well and defend as though it were my own.”
Castor saw that Tyr was not going to argue about this, and as Tyr was so much larger than Castor, he relented to Tyr statements and went to get what he needed for his travel.