Happy Yule to You Too Book Two of the Skalding Sagas

By Robert Blumetti

In this second saga of Professor Ottar Skalding, the good professor is charged by the Asasynir to hunt down a necromancer by the name of Bellamy. He plans to conjure up the spirit of the black wizard Karl Marie Wiligut, who influenced Heinrich Himmler and the SS during World War Two. This time the goal is to replace Hela, who was given reign over the Realm of the Dead by Odin and charged to keep the dead from escaping into the world of the living, by the Giant, Helreginn, the former ruler of the Netherworld. Skalding seeks out help from his friend, Sundryl, a Light Elf, and together they must fight their way through an army of draugr, the living dead, to stop Bellamy and Wiligut. Happy Yule to You Too is the second in a series of sagas about the adventures of the modern-day Erulian, Professor Ottar Skalding.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781716124563

Robert Blumetti

Robert Blumetti has been an elder in the Odinist movement for more than 25 years. He was introduced into the Odinist movement by Robert Zoller, a Godhi with the Rune Gild, and world-renown medieval astrologer, in 1984. During the three years he spent with Zoller, he experienced an epiphany and became a devotee to Odin. Other Gods in which he established a special relationship with during this period of his life are Freyja and Balder. Blumetti is a Rune Master Program with the Denali Institute of Northern Traditions. His fi rst book on the subject of Odinism was, The Book of Balder Rising, which is a complete recitation of the Norse myths and interpretation. In his second book, Vrilology: Th e Secret Science of the Ancient Aryans, he explores the origins of Indo-European spirituality and the pagan religions, tracing their roots back to the Ur-civilization that existed in the Black Sea region, over nine thousand years ago. In his third book, Vril: The Secret to a Successful and Happy Life, which is an introduction to Vrilology. Blumetti is the Vril Master of the Church of Balder Rising located in northern New Jersey, teaches classes on Runes, galdor magic, seither, spa-craft, Vrilology, Norse lore and much more, and is a pioneer in the field of runic physics. Blumetti is also an author of many other books that include science fiction, heroic adventure, alternative histories.

Book preview

Happy Yule to You Too Book Two of the Skalding Sagas

Happy Yule to You Too

BOOK TWO OF THE SKALDING SAGAS

by Robert Blumetti

copyright 2020

ISBN 978-1-71612-456-3

Published by Balder Rising

1. That Was One Hel of a Dream!

I found myself walking along a road that passed through a land of mist.  The road was hard, and landscape on either side seemed to be cold and barren, of what little I could see.  The sky was an eerie grayish white and blocked out by the mist and fog.  There were no sounds of life, and I simply walked on since I had no idea where I was or in what direction I was walking.  I tried to use my Bifrost Gland to see through the haze, but it failed me.  I had no idea how I got here, and I could not remember leaving my castle-home. 

After walking for what seemed like an eternity, I saw what looked like a group of people walking ahead of me.  Their forms were barely visible in the vaporous fog, and I called out to them, but they took no notice of me, or they did not hear me.  So I began running to try to catch up to them.

When I reached them, I shouted to them, Hey!  You!  Wait up! but they did not slow down, stop or take any notice of me.  When I finally reached them, I stopped in front of them, blocking their way.  There were five of them: three men, one woman, and one child.  They continued to walk, and acted as if I were not there.  The only awareness I had that they took any notice of me was that they walked around me, as if they were walking around a tree that blocked their way.

I stepped back from them and looked the first of them in his face.  It was an older man, probably around sixty years old.  His skin appeared almost grayish in color, and his clothes were undefined robes.  His face held no expression.  It was blank, and his eyes were fixed and unmoving, staring straight ahead. When I looked at the others, they were like him–blank and lifeless, animated but with no apparent consciousness.  I stopped and just watched them move on, disappearing into the mist, heading in whatever direction the road took them.

That’s when I had a terrible feeling.  It was more like an icy sensation or chill that you get that causes your body to shiver uncontrollably.  I stood there shivering for a few seconds, unable to stop, until I heard the voice.  It called my name, Professor Erwin Ottar Skalding.  It was female and distant.  I heard it again, but this time louder and closer, as if whoever was saying my name was calling me and moving toward me, but I had no clue from which direction. For a third time I heard my name, and this time it was louder still.  Finally I heard it a fourth time, and finally there was direction.

I turned around, and the mist slowly parted like curtains on the stage of a theater.  There standing before me was a tall and very beautiful woman.  When I say tall, I mean she was slightly taller than me, and I am six foot six inches tall.  As she approached, the features of her face came into focus.  Her hair was long and braided, and the color of black pitch.  The face was perfect, beautiful beyond belief, but cold, white as snow, with no color.  But her eyes sparkled like two violent lights flickering with life.  She did not get close to me, and when she moved it was very slowly, like a flower opening its petals when it’s bathed in the first rays of the morning sun.

I have brought you here, Professor Erwin Ottar Skalding, she said, as she raised one arm and pointed a finger at me.  Beware!  Your life is in great peril, as is the life of untold millions.  Though I welcome all who journey to my realm, I do not seek any who come before their designated time.  That is the will of Odin, and I am his servant.

Holy crap, I thought to myself.  She is Hela, the ruler of Hel.  She is Loki’s daughter, and placed in charge of the Netherworld, the Realm of the Dead, by Odin himself, to keep order between the realms of the living and the dead. That means I must...Good Golly, Miss Molly, I must be in Hel.  That’s Hel with one L if you please, and not the Christianized and Islamized conception of Hell.

Why have you summoned me, Queen of the Netherworld? I asked her, trying to show as much respect as possible.  Hela was not evil, even though her father was Loki.  She was what she was: Queen of the Realm of the Dead, placed in charge by Odin.

I have been charged to warn you of the danger that faces you at this Yule time, she said.

Charge by whom? I asked her.

By he who is my Lord, she said.

Right! Odin of course.

And may I ask, what is the danger that awaits me?

That which I have displaced, she said. That which seeks to return.

Okay.  She’s talking in riddles. Please, Lady, can you give me more information? I asked.

This night, one who was a subject of my domain has escaped from the realm of the dead, she said.  I could see pain in her cold but beautiful features for the first time.  He has broken the laws that Odin himself has laid down governing the living and the dead.  If he is not stopped, he will return to the realm of the living, and millions, perhaps billions, will die in the years to come.  It falls on your shoulders to see that Odin’s laws are upheld, and that that which is not meant to be unleashed is leashed.

Okay.  More riddles.  Oh great Lady, can you tell me more? I asked.  She pointed to her right, back down the road from where I had just traveled.  When I turned to look, it was as if I were sitting in a theater in total darkness one second, and the next second the picture flashed on the screen before me.  I immediately covered my eyes, for I found myself standing on top of a mountain with a panorama stretched out before me, and everywhere I looked, in every direction, there was endless death and destruction.  I saw millions of people—men, women and children—dying in every terrible imaginable way possible.  I saw cities burning, cities swept away in terrible winds, and cities drowned in tidal waves.  I saw mountains collapse and the landscape erupt.  It was nightmarish and too horrible to bear, and finally I cried out.

I found myself sitting upright in my bed, screaming in the darkness of my bedroom.  Finally I stopped and just sat there, covered in sweat and panting hard.  Finally the alarm clock began ringing.  I reached over and shut it off.  It was time to get up, get dressed.  Uma would be there in a few hours. 

2. Over the Hills and Through the Snow

I can’t believe all the snow that we had in the last two days, Uma said, as she looked out the front passenger window of my Hummer.  I bet all the Christians are drooling about enjoying a white Christmas.

Now, now, Uma, be nice, I said, as I maneuvered my Hummer along Route 14, or Main Street, as it’s known as it passes through the town of Cross Plains.  This is a time of peace and good will to all, and it does not matter if we are Christians or Heathens.

Uma turned and looked at me with her chocolate brown eyes and pursed her lips, with a look that said, Don’t talk to me like I’m five years old. 

I know that, she said, and then smiled.  Actually I always loved Christmas, especially the carols.  Some of them are so beautiful.  We really should heathenize them.

"Heathenize them?" I asked, without really taking my eyes off the road, which was like driving through a trench with walls of snow piled up ten feet high on either side.  The snow was so high that you could hardly see the houses and stores on Main Street.

Yes, she said, and then nestled down into the passenger’s seat as if she was pleased with herself.  "You know.  We could take the carol O Come All Ye Faithful and change the words.  Make it about Balder, who is reborn at this Yule time."

I raised my eyebrows.  Don’t you think that’s a bit of a sellout?

Sellout?  How so? she asked.

Well...why can’t we come up with a true Heathen song? I said.

Oh!  And Christianity never co-opted our ancient Heathen traditions? Uma said.  It felt like the temperature in the car rose ten degree as Uma spoke those words. I almost expected the snow on either side of the road to begin melting. And I meant that in Fahrenheit.  We Heathens remain true to the old system of measurements, which are rooted in our Heathen past, unlike the modern metric systems.  It is funny when I think of how Christian America still is compared to Europe, and yet America remains faithful to the Heathen custom of measurements. But then, most Americans are rather ignorant of the Heathen nature of our culture.

I raised my right hand with open palm and said, You’re right, of course.  One of the reasons Christianity was so successful in converting Europe was its willingness to incorporate much of Europe’s Heathen traditions.

You’re damn right I’m right, Uma said.  Oooo!  There’s Wilson Street.  Turn right.

As you command, my Sweet, I said, and turned onto Wilson Street. 

Cross Plains is a small town to the west of Madison.  Arnold Sakmusson, my mentor and a professor of quantum physics at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, was holding a Yule party and celebration that night, which was the first night of Yule, at his home in the woods just north of Cross Plains.

The side streets were even more congested, with mountains of snow piled even higher than on Main Street.  It was only December 21, and we had already been hit with one of the worst snow storms in the history of Wisconsin, which is known for terrible snow storms.  But they usually wait until January.

I drove along slowly for three blocks and then turned left as Wilson Street terminated.  I turned onto Cross Street.  That is the name of the street, just so you know I don’t mean the cross street.  I didn’t go very far before making the first available right, onto Hickory Hill Street.  It ran only one block, with nice, upper-middle-class homes on either side.  At the end of that block a narrower road continued into the woods.  I put the Hummer into low gear and drove on that road into what looked like a tunnel.  There was a wooden God-pole on each side of the road, like the ones that guard the entrance to my castle-home located on Picnic Point Peninsula. Go ahead, say that ten times fast, I dare you.  The trees were tall and thick, and formed a roof over the road.  I was lucky to have a Hummer, driving in this weather, but I soon discovered that the road was surprisingly free of snow and ice.  It continued on for about one hundred yards.  There to the right of the road was Arnie’s house.

Yule begins on December 21st, the shortest day of the year, or the day with the least amount of sunlight.  (Actually the shortest day of the year is the day we go over to daylight saving time and move our clocks forward one hour, which means there are only twenty-three hours in that day instead of the usual twenty-four.)  Yule is celebrated for twelve days, with the last day being New Year’s Day, thus the origin of The Twelve Days of Christmas.  Bet you didn’t know that.  Most people don’t.  They don’t even realize that Christmas was a Heathen holiday, and that the Christian Church found it impossible to halt its celebration even after the common people had adopted Christianity.  So they decided that Christ’s birthday should be celebrated at this time of the year, and since one of the most popular Heathen Gods in the Roman Empire was Mithras (he was actually an Indo-European Iranian God that was popularly worshiped by the Roman soldiers), who was reputed to have been born on December 25th, the Church decided to designate this day as Christ’s birthday, and retain the celebration for the twelve days beginning on December 21 and ending on New Year's Day.

Among the Asatru Heathens, Yule is the first day of twelve days when we celebrate the return of the Sun God, Balder–Odin’s son.  It is his birthday and re-birthday, because it is the day when daylight ceases to decline; for the following six months daylight increases until it reaches its maximum, and then declines for the next six months, during which darkness grows stronger.  In Norse Mythology, this is the equivalent to Balder, as the God of enlightenment, being born, and then dying on Midsummer Day. From Midsummer Day on he resides in the Netherworld, until he is reborn after the destruction of the multiverse during Ragnarok.  That’s when he rises from the Netherworld, and his resurrection heralds in the Golden Age of Gimli and the return of the Gods.  Yea, I know this sounds a lot like Christ, but this story of Balder’s resurrection has been part of the Heathen past for thousands of years before Christianity made its appearance.  In fact, the tale of a young God dying and a new age being born after his resurrection has been part of at least sixteen different pagan religions.

Oh, before I forget...the twelve days of Yule are actually twelve days and twelve nights, representing the power of the twenty-four Runes of the Elder Futhark. Just thought I’d let you know.

I turned off the road and onto the driveway leading to Arnie’s house.  We passed through pine and blue spruce trees for about 100 feet, where they opened into a clearing in the woods.  Arnie’s house was magnificent not for its size but for the impression one has when they see it for the first time, especially at this time of the year.

The house is log cabin style, made from really large logs, resting on a foundation made from huge boulders.  Stairs rose from the driveway to the front porch that nestled under a large awning made from smaller logs and covered with green shingles.  It was held up by log pillars that were wrapped in green garlands with red flowers.  Along the edges of the porch and awning were small, deep-blue lights that glowed with a twilight effect.  The house itself was made of many sections and angles, each with its own gabled roof and windows that protruded from the green shingles.  The same deep blue lights decorated the edges and angles of the entire house, and there was surprisingly little snow on the roof of the house, but then, that is the function of such sharply angled gables.  White smoke rose into the night sky from several stone chimneys protruding from the roof.  The entire clearing was covered with a deep blanket of pure-white snow that somehow always seemed to have fallen in the previous half-hour.  There is something fairy-tale-like about newly fallen snow.  The glow from the blue lights reflected off the white snow, giving the entire house a twilight aura that made you feel like you were no longer in Kansas, as Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz would say.

The windows were lit up with a deep yellowish glow that invited you to come join the merriment that could be heard inside the house.  Pine wreaths decorated the windows with tasteful bows, and tiny flames danced on the tips of lit candles that seemed to stand watch.  The sky above was clear, as if no cloud would dare intrude and hide the billion-star spangled night canopy that covered Arnie’s property.  An enchantment filled the clearing, and a gentle breeze causes snowflakes to dance on its currents, sparkling with the lights from the house. 

Uma was in awe of the spectacle as I parked my Hummer next to the vehicles of the many guests that had already arrived.  When we got out of the Hummer, she stood motionless for a moment and stared at the house.  Absolutely lovely, she said, and then turned to me and gave me one of those smiles that let me know that she was definitely on Santa’s naughty list. She raised her shoulders so that the fur collar rose and let her cheeks rest on their softness. 

Are you all right? I asked.

Her eyes had this far-away look.  Oh, I just can’t decide if we should go inside or stay out here for a while.  It’s so beautiful.

I looked at her for a moment and reminded myself why I loved her so, and how she could always read my thoughts, and she definitely could read them there and then, because she threw back her head and laughed.

She stepped toward me, held out her hand for me to grasp, smiled once more, and said, We had better go inside before you try and do something that might turn out to be scandalous, though deliciously so.