🔵 By Thomas Riffenburg. Photo by lauragrafie.
Standing high upon the edge of the cliff, cloaked in the embrace of darkness, hidden by its cold hand, he watches…. The night sky is blanketed by clouds, the stars destroyed and forgotten by their thickness, the moons light suffocated to a mere glow, still he watches…. The breeze blows across his body, chilling his sweat soaked armor, yet gentle it is, but the pounding of his heart upon his ears roars, drowning him in unbearable noise, still he watches…. He watches in disbelief, in terror, so much terror it seems Hel may take him at any moment to her halls, for the ships, as far as the eye can see, they come to his shore, frozen, he watches…. He whispers silently, afraid to speak the words aloud…. The Heathen comes….